


Bloodstone

by geoffaree



Series: A Very Slytherin Harry [6]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Hogwarts Fourth Year, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Parseltongue, Severitus, Slytherin Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-07
Updated: 2019-01-26
Packaged: 2019-07-08 06:58:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 110,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15925262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geoffaree/pseuds/geoffaree
Summary: Harry and Jax's third summer at Spinner's End and first as part of his new family. With fourth year comes a few surprises and an exasperated Harry that wishes for once that he could just have a regular school term. Or at least one that did not involve actual dragons, too many people trying to nose their way into his business, and the intrusion of far too numerous and unexpected emotions.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very kindly beta read by [a_stands_for](https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_stands_for/pseuds/a_stands_for)

Harry Snape sat on a cracked cement sidewalk, helping his friend Liam sew a Green Day patch onto a blue denim jacket that the boy had torn the sleeves off of while Henry Rollins growled out of a scuffed-up boombox of dubious origin between them. Harry was better at stitching, as he’d had to mend many a second-hand article of Dudley's clothing if he wished to not actually wander around Surry naked.

Liam hadn't had any thread, but he’d brought along some dental floss instead and that seemed to work just fine. Harry found it mildly amusing imagining the face Hermione Granger would make if she saw what Harry was putting the floss to use for, as her parents were muggle dentists. The patch was being nestled between a sloppily stitched on red and white DK that was a match for the faded Kennedy’s shirt Harry was currently wearing (which finally fit well enough for him to feel as if he could wear it outside of sleeping and not look ridiculous) and a grinning Misfits skull that sat at a bit of a crooked angle and was the current topic of their discussion.

Harry didn't mind Jerry Only so much, but Liam was a staunch supporter of Danzig and had spent much of the last ten minutes extolling the man and complaining loudly about stupid band-stealing assholes who should have shut up and stayed behind their bass. Harry may have been egging Liam on a bit, as it was amusing to see the boy get so fired up and angry when he was usually so happy-go-lucky.

It had been such a relief when Harry had made that first trip back to the music shop at the beginning of summer and Liam had been there, just smiling so brightly at him, as if Harry had not disappeared abruptly after Severus had come to collect him in a stormy frenzy. Liam's hair was still a bright blue, but had been shaved on the sides into a mohawk style that the boy had obviously done himself, as it was a bit skewed in the back. It wasn't stuck up today, just flopped over on the side of Liam's head like a choppy little wave, the top constantly falling forward into the boy's eye as it was too short to tuck behind his ear effectively. He still had the nose ring, but it had been joined by two silver bars through Liam's right eyebrow and a ring through the left side of his lower lip. Harry had heard Severus muttering darkly about _blue hair_ and _hooligans_ when Harry mentioned going out to spend time with Liam, but it was the sort of grumbling he did about dunderheaded first years and the abysmal state of published works in _Brewer’s Bi-Monthly_ , so Harry wasn't too fussed.

“--and Only doesn't sing nearly as good as Danzig, the depth is all--"

Harry glanced up as Liam cut himself off. His eyes had gone wide and he was staring over Harry's shoulder with a somewhat panicky face.

“Er, don’t look now Evan, but I think there's a madman coming our way.”

Harry did look, but subtly, ducking his head to peer behind them out of the corner of his eye. The zing of adrenaline that had shot through him at Liam's words washed away almost instantly and he sent the other boy an unconcerned shrug.

“Oh, that's just my godfather.”

“Uh... you sure? ‘Cause I'm pretty sure I saw something on the news about a bloke looking just like that murderin’ a whole buncha people.”

Harry bit off the ends of the floss and tied it off just as Jax came slithering up from his exploration of the dry grass that covered the small expanse of dingy park in front of their strip of sidewalk. It was empty except for them, the sound of a rusty swing creaking in the slight breeze just barely audible over the music coming out of the stereo.

“Oh, yeah. That was him, but he was framed. They got the guy who actually did it.” Harry tossed the denim vest into Liam’s scrunched up face, who flailed a bit before untangling himself and slipping it on over his skinny shoulders.

Harry stood up and dusted off the seat of his trousers, Liam scrambling to follow. Sirius was strolling up to them at a leisurely pace looking much healthier than when Harry had first met him that night, months ago. His hair was no longer a tangled, lank mass, but fell down to his shoulders in dark brown waves. His skin had lost its pallid, sallow tint, and even if his gray eyes were still heavy with emotion, they at least allowed a smile to shine through more often than not. He was wearing what Harry recognised as dragonhide boots with a pair of tight, dark muggle denims tucked into them, and a burgundy silk shirt with some sort of paisley pattern under something that more resembled a dark washed frock coat than a conventional jacket. On anyone else the outfit might have looked ridiculous, but Sirius Black seemed to be possessed of the singular ability to make anything he chose to wear seem the epitome of cool.

“Hey, sprog,” Sirius greeted when he was close enough, “Snape said you’d be out here. Who’s your friend?” He flashed a grin at Liam, who was staring wide eyed up at the man and gaping slightly. Harry dug his elbow into his side, which at least got the boy to stop imitating a fish.

“This is Liam, he lives down the street,” Harry told Sirius. “He goes to the local school.”

“Ah,” Sirius winked, giving the most unsubtle sign that he understood Harry’s meaning. “Always nice to meet Harry’s friends, he keeps such interesting company.” Sirius held out a hand that Liam shook with a bewildered expression. Harry winced, guilt crawling its familiar way up the back of his throat as Liam turned questioning eyes on him.

“Evan?”

“Erm, right.” Harry shuffled his feet a bit on the cracked sidewalk, his shoulders hunching. “Yeah, about that... my name isn’t really Evan, it’s Harry. Sorry.”

Sirius was watching the exchange with as bewildered a look as Liam. Jax was coiling around one of Harry’s legs, lending silent support. He hadn’t meant to keep the lie up so long, it had just never seemed like a good time to bring it up. And the longer things went on, the more it seemed like a terrible idea to admit he’d been lying to his friend since the moment they had first met. Harry had a sudden deep flash of empathy for Lupin, who had dug himself into such a similar hole. Lupin _had_ been able to climb back out, though, so perhaps not all was lost here.

“Why’d you tell me your name was Evan?”

“Habit,” Harry said truthfully, rocking back and forth on his feet out of nerves, Jax a heavy weight around one leg. “Where I came from before moving here, it wasn’t... it wasn’t _nice_ , being Harry. It didn’t have anything to do with you, I promise.”

Liam chewed on the ring through his lip. “That man last summer, he wasn’t your da, was he?”

“He is. Now. He wasn’t then, but he is now.” Harry very carefully ignored the wince that passed over Sirius at the words.

“Oh.” Liam fell silent a moment before sending Harry one of his blinding smiles full of crooked teeth and unrepentant cheer. “That’s okay, mate. But don’t blame me if I slip up an’ call you Evan now and again.”

He bumped shoulders with Harry, who couldn’t quite believe it might be that easy.

“But,” the boy continued, bright face suddenly deadly serious once more and Harry braced himself for the worst. “Jerry Only is still a no talent bastard and I refuse to even listen to you say anything otherwise.”

Harry blinked before a startled laugh burst out of him and Liam’s face cracked a second later as he joined in. Sirius watched the pair of them with raised brows. Harry managed to reign himself in as Jax slithered his way up his leg, until he was high enough to be gathered into Harry’s arms.

“Did you come over with Remus?” he asked, if only to veer the conversation away from more personal territory.

“Yeah, he’s back at yours,” Sirius nodded. “I came to see if you wanted to take a ride?”

“On the bike? You brought it?” Harry perked up; he’d seen the monster of a motorbike before, but hadn’t been on it yet. Well, not that he could remember properly, at least. If Professor Hagrid was to be believed, he’d taken Harry to Privet Drive all those years ago on that selfsame bike.

Liam was looking interested now, too, and Sirius chuckled as he led them down the street to where the giant silver and black bike was parked. Liam gave a low whistle, cradling the boombox in his arms as he leaned closer to examine the shining frame.

“Hagrid took good care of her for me,” Sirius grinned, patting the seat affectionately.

Jax stretched out to flick his tongue curiously at the machine. “ _It smells magical._ ”

“ _Well, it is a_ flying _motorbike..._ ” Harry hissed quietly as Liam was distracted examining the front.

Jax gave a displeased hiss. “ _I swear, it’s always flying with you lot. Why can’t you just stay on the ground like sensible creatures?_ ”

Harry snorted and tickled the snake under the chin.

“This is a right wicked ride,” Liam praised, blowing a lock of blue hair out of his eye only for it to fall right back down. Sirius grinned, pleased.

“Severus said it was alright for us to go?”

“Well, he didn't explicitly forbid it.”

Harry thought that was a bit flimsy, but he also really wanted a ride on the bike.

Liam stepped back as Sirius dug around in one of the saddlebags and pulled out a glossy black helmet that he held out to Harry with a little wiggle. “C’mon kiddo, the road calls.”

Harry only hesitated a moment before shuffling Jax into one arm and grabbing the helmet. Sirius flipped open the other saddlebag with a flourish.

“I even cleared out one of these for your little friend.”

Harry smiled up at his godfather, touched. Sirius was still not the most comfortable around Jax, but it really meant a lot when he did something like this.

Jax stretched forward once more and flicked his forked tongue out at the open bag before allowing Harry to set him inside. There was a reluctant grumble from the serpent that meant it was pretty comfortable in there even if he didn’t want to fully admit it. Harry flipped the flap closed, leaving enough space for Jax to poke his head out of the side, which he did almost instantly, earning a boop on his freckled snout.

Sirius swung up onto the bike, his long legs making the motion look graceful in a way that Harry’s much shorter stature could never hope to match. Harry turned to Liam, who was grinning and seemed almost more excited than Sirius for Harry to ride off.

“I guess I’ll see you later, then. Sorry again, about before.”

Liam bumped their shoulders together and shook his head. “No worries, mate. I get it.”

Harry shoved the helmet on over his messy hair, if only for something to do other than shuffle his feet and feel awkwardly happy that his friend didn’t hate him for lying. Sirius patted the expanse of seat behind him with a grin.

“Up you get, sprog. There’s only so long Remy can distract Snape.” He and Harry grimaced simultaneously, both of them regretting Sirius’ choice of words. Nevertheless, Harry scrambled as best he could up onto the giant machine.

His feet didn’t even come close to scraping the ground, though the seat was pretty comfortable. He dithered about where to put his hands, but that problem was solved for him when Sirius started the engine with an almighty rumbling growl that spread through the entire bike and Harry latched his arms instinctively around the man’s middle. He could feel Sirius laughing, but before he could reply in a properly scathing manner, the man was kicking off the street and revving the engine loudly. Harry managed a last glance at the grinning Liam before they were off, zooming down the lane at what was probably a reckless speed.

Harry was grinning now too as they weaved around slower cars and took turns at sharp angles while the wind whipped around them. Houses flashed past in a dull gray blur of scenery as they sped out of dreary Cokeworth and into the more lush countryside. Once out on the more open road, Sirius really let loose and Harry held tight as the bike rumbled under him, eating up the road like some ravenous monster. He could feel himself laughing even if he couldn’t hear it over the rush of wind or noise of the engine. Sirius was laughing too, and Harry imagined the sound was probably more free and full than anything he’d heard from the man before.

They rode for what felt like hours, but was probably less, before stopping in a tiny village for a lunch of fish and chips. Sirius’ hair was in a windswept tangle and he was grinning as they munched on the hot food at a little circular table outside the eatery. Jax was snatching bits of potato from Harry’s portion and refusing to admit that he was having as much fun on the ride as Harry was. Harry scritched under his chin until the serpent huffed and wriggled away to pretend to pout.

Sirius raised an inquisitive brow and Harry rolled his eyes.

“Jax is just being stubborn. He loves fast rides and stuff like that, as long as they stay on the ground, but he doesn’t want to admit to it because... well, because it’s you.” He shrugged apologetically and Sirius gave the serpent a wry smile.

“Still not my biggest fan, eh?”

Jax flicked his tail in a huffy way that told Harry the snake really was spending too much time with Draco Malfoy.

“I think this has earned you a fair amount of points with him, even if he doesn’t want to show it.” Harry dangled a fat chunk of fried potato over Jax’s upturned snout. It only took a moment before it was snatched away with an unimpressed purple glare. Harry snorted, stroking along the warm scales. Silly serpent.

“Sorry for blowing your cover back there, kid.”

Harry shrugged, taking a bit of steaming fish. “It was probably for the best. It was my own fault for lying anyway.”

“Still.”

It was getting dark by the time they finally returned to Spinner’s End, and not even the thought of the disapproving frown that was sure to be on his father’s face could dampen his spirits. It had been a fun afternoon, freeing. Harry hoped they could do it again sometime, though he might have to weedle a bit with Severus first. The man was waiting for them with crossed arms and glaring dark eyes outside the door to Spinner’s End when Sirius pulled up and cut the engine after a final (probably unnecessarily loud) growl. Harry slid gracelessly down from the bike and tugged the helmet off, handing it to Sirius before gathering Jax from the saddlebag and making his sheepish way up the little path to the front door and his father.

Severus unfurled his arms enough to pull Harry close and give him a quick scan before jerking his head in an obvious command to get inside.

“It was just a bit of fun, Dad,” Harry murmured. “Don’t be too hard on him, okay?”

Severus snorted but Harry could see him softening around the edges, just slightly, and that was enough to get him to go inside without further protest.

Lupin was in the sitting room, sipping a cup of nice smelling tea and flipping through a book with the air of someone not paying it one whit of attention.

“Hello, Professor,” Harry greeted, moving over to the one tiny window to see if he could catch a glimpse of the pair outside, but the angle was all wrong.

“Hello, Harry. Have fun today? And please, I’m no longer your teacher, Remus is perfectly fine.”

Harry settled into an armchair, the one that Severus usually occupied, as Lupin was in his at the moment. “Yeah, it was brilliant. Are you two going to stay for dinner?”

“I suppose that depends upon just how much Severus tears into Sirius for taking off with you on that bike.” Lupin was smiling wryly, the words more amused than worried.

He couldn’t hear any shouting from outside, though that didn’t mean much. Severus could have cast a muffling charm. He needn’t have worried so much as they both came inside a few moments later, Severus looking broodingly disdainful but not outright angry, followed by a scowling Sirius who at least looked as if he hadn’t been hexed six ways from Sunday, even if he had lost some of his cavalier attitude.

As he passed Harry, Severus rested a hand over his hair for a moment before walking through to the kitchen. Lupin was rolling his eyes at a sheepish looking Sirius who was leaning against one of the towering black bookcases with his hands in his pockets.

“You’re lucky he didn't toss us both out after a stunt like that,” Lupin said, flipping another page in his book.

“Oh Moony, don’t worry so much. It was only a short ride and Harry had a helmet on the whole time. Right, sprog?”

“If you had been gone any longer, Severus would have started _searching_ for you,” Lupin cut in with a flash of amber eyes; the moon must be getting full. “And believe you me, Padfoot, you would not have liked to be on the other end of that.”

Sirius hunched up his shoulders and grumbled but did not deny it.

“I know. I told Snape I'd inform him of any _subsequent ventures_. I do prefer my balls where they currently reside, although the dog jokes are getting a bit old.”

“He said we could go again?” Harry couldn't help the smile creeping up on him, and even Jax perked up from his spot across the back of the chair.

Sirius grinned at him from under his curtain of hair, looking slightly bemused as well. “Yeah. Though it might be wise to wait a bit.”

Dinner was an awkward stretch of time filled with too many people not saying a lot of things. The food was good, though, as it tended to be. Harry did notice that when slices of lime tart were passed around, Sirius’ portion looked quite thin. Although if Harry was being honest, he was surprised his godfather had gotten any at all.

Harry did the dishes after Remus and Sirius left, and it showed that Severus was still upset with him that he did not even protest the action. The man simply sat at the cleared away table and sipped at a cup of tea that had long since gone cold, as Harry scrubbed and rinsed and dried by hand what was normally done by magic.

“I'm sorry,” he said finally, when the heavy silence was becoming far too much. “I know I should have made sure it was okay to leave.”

“Yes. You should have,” Severus agreed, pinning Harry with a disappointed look that hurt far more than simple anger would ever have. “However, you were not the only responsible party to the act, and by far the least deserving of my ire. Black very well knew that I would disapprove and so neglected to seek permission or even attempt to persuade me. _That_ is the crux of the issue.”

He gestured for Harry to sit. He did so, resisting the urge to shuffle his feet across the linoleum.

“Look at me.” His father's voice was quiet but commanding, and Harry met his gaze as much as he could when the bubbling guilt was urging him to stare at the scuffed tabletop. “This mentality of asking forgiveness instead of permission is something I expect from the likes of _Black_ , but not a mindset I will tolerate from you. It is a foolhardy habit in the extreme and will end up getting you hurt or worse.”

Harry nodded. He understood, he really did. It was something that had always been a problem with him. He had thought himself getting better, thinking more before acting. But the shame that crawled over his skin as the silence stretched between them proved he was not nearly so self controlled as he should be.

“I'm sorry,” he repeated, ducking his head despite the earlier order. “I'll do better. It won’t happen again.”

“I know.”

There was a scraping noise as Severus pushed back from the table. Harry held in a surprised sound as he was pulled into a firm hug; it was not a thing a deserved.

That did not stop him from clinging tightly in return.

“You’re grounded, of course,” Severus said after a moment, running a hand over Harry's head as he did so. “A full week. You are not to leave the house unless it is in my company or to go to the apothecary. No walking around the neighborhood and certainly no spending time with Sirius Black for the duration.”

Harry nodded, feeling he deserved far worse. “And after?”

“We shall discuss it when the week is up. Now, go clean up for bed.”

Harry shuffled away, collecting a snoozing Jax from the sitting room on his way. It was a long time before he heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs. He listened from his place laying in bed as the steps paused outside his door before continuing on.

It took far more effort than it should have to clear his mind that night, but Harry knew the lesson had been learned. He hated seeing that look of disappointment, knowing it was his fault.

He would be better.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very kindly beta read by [a_stands_for](https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_stands_for/pseuds/a_stands_for)

At the end of Harry's week of punishment, a week that had seemed to stretch into eternity as the walls of Spinner’s End grew steadily more confining, Severus announced that they would be attending a lunch at the Burrow at the behest of Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. Harry wondered vaguely if this was an additional punishment because the Burrow, as it turned out, was a towering crooked mass of house in the middle of a large field that seemed to only be standing upright at all by dint of so much magic. Which would have been perfectly fine, wonderfully intriguing even, if it did not also play host to a veritable _army_ of rowdy redheads all seemingly quite ecstatic to be crammed into a kitchen so full of people and food and noise that Harry could hardly breathe without knocking up against someone.

Harry was feeling overdressed and awkward squashed down between Ron Weasley, still in faded striped pajamas, and one of the twins wearing two different socks and a jumper adorned with a large blue B. Harry had dressed in one of his nicer robes, black with silver trim. He’d hesitated that morning over the choice, unsure, but a voice in the back of his head that sounded suspiciously like Blaise had berated him about impressions and proper attire for meal invitations. He had relented to the voice as he did wish to present a good face to Mrs. Weasley, who had been kind, if a bit brisk to him on the occasions they had previously met (she had even sent him a jumper once,) but had stubbornly kept his dragonhide boots.

Severus had at least given him an approving nod when Harry had descended the stairs. His father was dressed in similar attire, so that if one did not know better the pair could be mistaken for blood relatives, given Harry's pale complexion, dark hair, and slight build. The thought comforted him and though he sometimes wished it were truth, Harry also knew that blood could hold resentment and hate just as much as the potential for love and acceptance. In his own experience, the negatives had far outweighed any positive.

The Dursleys had been forced by familial obligations to take him in and that had turned out terribly for all involved. Severus, on the other hand, had _chosen_ Harry. Had brought him into his home and life and heart. Sometimes, less often as time went on, Harry was still astonished, dumbfounded at the very idea that anyone could care so deeply about him. Severus _did_ , though, and Harry could remember that most of the time and use it to push away the darker thoughts that tried so hard to consume him.

Still, when his father had Apparated them to the dusty lane with a large teetering hodgepodge of a house at the end of it, Harry could not quite suppress the nerves that came about with intruding on new and unfamiliar territory. One so clearly crafted with familial _love_ and warm comforts despite the veneer of shabbiness.

Number Four, with all its pristine, orderly perfection and exacting _normality_ had never felt a tenth the home that the Burrow did. Even from their vantage up the dusty road, Harry could see that.

It did not mean, however, that he was comfortable being surrounded by so much chaos as he tried his best to eat with manners drilled into him by Blaise and Draco over the years. It was difficult to maintain proper decorum when mashed turnips were being catapulted across the table as platters and bowls were passed back and forth and everyone seemed intent on being heard over everyone _else_ intent on talking at the same time.

“ _Fred!_ You put that spoon down right this second!” Molly Weasley yelled from down the table, not even looking up from where she was piling extra bacon sandwiches onto Severus’s plate despite the way the man was shaking his head in the negative.

The twin not next to Harry slumped and lowered his retaliatory scoop of turnips as George snickered and Ron stuck his tongue out smugly.

“Ron Weasley, if you do not put that away this instant you will be using it to clean out the firegrate, young man!”

Ron scowled and bit into one of his own sandwiches as Mrs. Weasley circled closer and gave Harry's plate the same treatment as his father's.

“There you go dear, eat up, you're both far too thin.” Her voice was sweetly kind as she addressed Harry, when a second ago it had been a harsh reprimand. Harry wondered how the woman was not constantly suffering from whiplash.

“Thank you,” Harry said, even as he knew he'd never be able to eat everything she was trying to nudge onto his plate.

“It's nothing, Harry dear, I've been trying to have you and Severus around for ages.” She smiled down at him warmly and Harry tried not to show how awkward and out of place he felt in the face of her kindness.

When he and Severus had approached the teetering house, Mrs. Weasley had come bustling out with a welcoming smile, wiping her hands on a shabby apron.

“Just in time, I’ve just called the boys in and managed to pull Arthur away from his tinkering. Sirius Black was just here the other day for tea and the two got to talking about those silly muggle auto-whatsits and I've hardly been able to tear him away from his projects to eat.”

“Sirius was here?” Harry had asked in surprise, as they followed her into a cluttered but obviously well loved kitchen where Ron and Ginny Weasley were already sat at a large table. The later had taken one look at Harry and flushed before looking straight away, which was a reaction that Harry was determined to ignore. Ron, on the other hand, had gone bug-eyed and pale at the sight of the Potions Master strolling so casually into his home.

“Oh yes, he came by looking to _apologise_. As if he thought we might blame him for anything, the poor man.”

Severus had snorted but refrained from saying anything, which Harry appreciated.

They had been directed to sit just as the twins came thundering down the stairs in socked feet, scarlet heads bent together conspiratorially. They paused midstep at the sight of Severus before giving him matching, mock bows which earned them a sardonic quirk of the eyebrow that seemed to please the twins greatly. An older, balding man came in through a side door, wiping his hands on an oilcloth. Harry recognized him as Arthur Weasley, an affable sort of fellow that dropped a kiss to the cheek of his wife and ruffled the various heads of red hair that he passed on the way to his spot at the head of the table.

The kitchen was rapidly filling up and Harry found himself being shuffled into a seat between the still gaping Ron and a grinning twin as food platters began floating their way onto the table at the behest of Mrs. Weasley’s wand.

“Severus, old chap, good to see you.” Mr. Weasley greeted Harry's father with a smile and a brief handshake.

“Arthur,” Severus murmured, almost too low to be heard over the chattering of the twins and clattering of dishware flying about the room.

There was the familiar _fwoosh_ of Floo activation from the adjacent sitting room and another pair of people came through into the kitchen.

“And here's Percy and Oliver, right on time.” Mrs. Weasley bustled over to give her son a kiss on the cheek that the much taller Percy bowed down primly for. “Percy, honey, you need to come home more often, you look thin as a rail.”

“I eat well enough, mother,” he replied with a long suffering air. “I apologise for missing last week, it's been so busy at the Ministry I've hardly had time for anything else.” Percy did not sound at all put out about his supposed workload, Harry noticed, as his chest had puffed quite noticeably at the claim. 

“All the more reason for you be _here_ ,” Mrs. Weasley clucked. “I don’t like the idea of you off on your own with your head so full of work that you forget to eat or sleep.”

“ _Mother_ ,” Percy sighed, pushing his horn rimmed glasses up his nose, “we’ve been through this. I've moved in with Oliver, I’m hardly alone.”

“Yeah, Mrs. Weasley,” Wood interjected with a boyish grin, “I take good care of Perce, don’t worry. I bring him lunch at the Ministry most days I'm not at practice and make sure he gets to bed at a reasonable time.” He sent an unsubtle wink up at the suddenly flustered Percy as his siblings snickered or whistled at the declaration.

“It’s Molly, dear, or mum. I've told you a hundred times.” She went to give him a kiss on the cheek as well, but Wood gathered the woman up in a big hug that took her slightly off her feet instead, only setting her down when she smacked him lightly over the head with a dish towel. “Oh, off you get, Oliver Wood, before I give you one worse.”

“Yes, Mum,” Wood laughed, allowing an exasperated Percy to pull him away, settling them further up the table near his father and Severus.

“Hello, Professor,” Percy said, sitting stiffly as if he could make up for the ridiculousness of his family by projecting a front of exacting propriety. “I was unaware you would be joining us today, I do hope you are doing well.”

“Mr. Weasley,” Severus murmured dryly, “I have few complaints.”

Whatever else may have been said was drowned out by the clatter of everyone grabbing for food and drink. Harry resisted the urge to tug at the collar of his robes as the overwhelming amount of sheer _Gryffindorishness_ that filled the room made the air a bit stifling. Most of the occupants of the room were just so open and happy and boisterous that Harry felt somehow adrift among them, an obvious outsider snuck into their midst.

Jax poked his head out of Harry's sleeve, snatching a piece of bacon from one of the numerous sandwiches piled on Harry's plate. Truthfully, the snake was getting a bit too big to be hiding up Harry sleeve, as the majority of his body was wrapped around his waist. Jax had thought it prudent to play shy, so as to have an advantage in the unknown situation and setting they were heading into. Harry suspected it had more to do with the snake’s fondness for startling people whenever he did decide to make his presence known.

Harry tried to make small talk with Ron, but the other boy seemed intent on distracting himself from the impossibility of Severus Snape at his kitchen table by shoving as many bacon sandwiches into his mouth as possible. It was an impressive amount, Harry had to admit.

George leaned in close to Harry, a glint in his eye.

“So, you live with Snape, huh? What's that like? Is it true he keeps firsties that melt too many cauldrons in his cellar to use as test subjects for his potion experiments?”

Harry stared at the grinning George for a moment before answering in a deadpan: “Second years, actually. They should have known better by then. One of my chores is to bring them bread and water.”

Fred and George cackled in delight while Ron choked so hard on his food that Ginny had to give him a good thump on the back with what seemed to be a well practiced motion.

“Oi, mate, warn a guy before you spout out stuff like that,” Ron managed roughly after finally clearing his airway.

Harry didn't know when he had crossed the line from wary acquaintance to someone deserving of friendly epithets with Ron Weasley, but he found he did not mind the idea of it so much. The Gryffindor had mellowed somewhat from the angry and accusatory presence he'd been during their second year. He had even tagged along with Hermione Granger to the study group for much of the remainder of the previous term after the incident with Sirius. The other boy was still brash and quick to take offense, but he seemed to have found his own niche with them in any case.

“Seriously though,” Fred said, leaning across the table with a solemn expression, “does he wear fuzzy slippers or does he just sleep dressed to kill?”

Harry snorted, the image of his father going to bed in his high necked robes almost as amusing as that morning when Harry had come down to find him scowling at the tea kettle with his long hair a sleep mussed tangle and barefoot, wearing a threadbare bathrobe. The juxtaposition of the dour Potions Master and a Severus Snape before morning tea was something Harry felt a bit privileged to witness.

“I consider that valuable information,” he smirked, “not to be given away lightly.”

The twins looked at each other, nodded, and turned matching grins back at Harry.

“As well you should, Potter,” George said.

“Though we might remind you of the generous gift we bestowed upon you last year,” Fred added.

Harry gave them a musing look, tapping his chin in mock thought. “It was a very useful gift, that’s true.” Harry doubted they would ever realise just how disastrous last term might have been had they never given Harry that Map. “I suppose that is worth a kindness in return, though don’t expect to get more out of me with that same line.” Truthfully, he liked the twins and wouldn’t actually mind sharing too much, but bargaining with them just seemed the thing to do.

Harry leaned in conspiratorially. “His slippers aren’t fuzzy, no, but he does have a pair of pajama bottoms with little cauldrons on them.” Remus had given them to him, and as much as Severus had scowled and rolled his eyes, Harry had seen him wear them more often than any other night clothes since.

The twins cackled again, and Harry felt the room was not quite so stifling as before.

He was still relieved when Mrs. Weasley deemed he had eaten enough to be allowed out into the garden, where she was shooing most of the people out of the kitchen. Severus and Arthur retired to the sitting room to talk while Percy and Oliver Wood disappeared back through the green flames of the Floo (ladened down with innumerable packages of food that Percy seemed more resigned to accepting than willing to fight against the need for.) Harry was glad for the reprieve as he followed Ron out into a tangled mess of an overgrown garden, which Jax slithered out of hiding almost at once to go explore. Ron startled, but at least didn’t shriek in terror, so there was that. The twins had wandered out with them but Ginny had vanished at some point, which Harry was more than willing to just accept. He really hoped the girl got over whatever it was she found so fascinating about him, as she seemed a good sort otherwise. Although Harry suspected Draco would never forgive her for beating them in that last match, no matter how nice she was.

“Hey, Potter,” Fred said with an all too casual air, “care for a sweet?”

“Oi!” Ron barked with a glare. “Don’t eat anything they give you, the lunatics have been inventing again.”

Harry hadn’t been planning on taking it, but looked at the little candy Fred held out curiously, even as George huffed and rolled his eyes at Ron.

“What’s it do, then?”

“Ton-Tongue Toffee,” Fred said proudly, unabashed at being caught out, “gives you a massive tongue.”

“Really?” Harry asked, fascinated. “How’s it work? Is it a potion? Or enchanted materials? How do you reverse the effects? Why does it only affect your tongue and nothing else it comes into contact with?”

The twins were delighted to chatter on about the process they used to make the toffees and how they had to do much of it in the dead of night for fear their mother would find their stock and toss it all out.

“She doesn’t approve see--”

“Doesn’t see our genius--”

“Our sheer potential for greatness--”

“She’s tired of you almost burning the house down every other day, is more like,” Ron interjected, and the twins shrugged, acknowledging the point.

“Do you have more stuff? Are you planning to sell these at Hogwarts?”

“Oh, _endless_ ideas,” George said with a grin.

“We’re going to open a joke shop: _Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes_. It’ll put Zonko’s right out of business.”

Harry believed them, there was a determined drive behind all the glib comments and smiles. Harry recognized that burning need to succeed at all costs and wondered if, in another life, the twins might have very well been sorted Slytherin. He’d wondered the same about Percy Weasley as well, who practically breathed ambition. He supposed it was familial obligation that overrode some things, as odd an idea as that seemed.

Jax came zipping past then, chasing what looked like a lumpy potato with legs and hissing curses as the thing nimbly evaded him. Harry quirked an eyebrow at Ron, who rolled his own eyes back.

“Garden gnomes, whole place is infested. We have to de-gnome all the time; Dad’s too soft on the buggers, thinks they’re cute.”

Harry watched Jax chase the gnome around the garden as the thing giggled and seemed to take great joy in being hunted down. Although, Harry noticed, Jax wasn’t actually trying all that hard to catch the thing, either.

He chatted with the Weasleys about their product ideas and the processes they went through to test and create them. It was all so fascinating and made Harry wish he could go back to Spinner’s End right then to work on his own potions experiments and improvements.

Jax returned just in time for Ron to get dive bombed by what looked to be a tiny fuzzy cannonball. “Urrg! _Pig_ , gerroff off you insane bird!”

The fuzzy cannonball, it turned out, was actually an owl, the smallest one Harry had ever seen. It hooted excitedly at Ron no matter how the boy swatted at it and had a letter attached to its leg that was easily twice its own size. Ron finally managed to grab hold of the owl in one fist (which caused it to snuggle down and hoot affectionately) and free the letter. He rolled his eyes and tossed it to Fred as the owl looked up at Ron with big, loving eyes.

“You’re supposed to bring them to the person they’re _addressed_ too, Pig. Not just assault the nearest person to them.” This was said with a long suffering sigh to which Pig the owl hooted happily, nipping affectionately at the hand encasing most of its tiny body. Ron, Harry noticed, did not look nearly as put out as he tried to sound.

“You named your owl Pig?” he asked as Jax climbed his way up to Harry’s shoulder, the snake’s utter hatred for those birds warring with his curious nature.

“ _Ginny_ did, Pigwidgeon actually, won’t answer to anything else. So I call him Pig.”

Jax flicked out his tongue at the tiny owl that seemed content to settle in for a nap in Ron’s hand. “ _I didn’t know they came so small. Why aren’t all those vicious things that small? I bet I could swallow him whole._ ”

“ _You are not allowed to eat his pet, Jax._ ” Harry refrained from snickering as Ron eyed him curiously, which was better than warily.

“What? Don’t tell me this is a person, too...” It was said in a joking manner, but with a hint of strain to the words.

Harry shook his head. “No, Jax would have smelt that right away. You're fine.”

“Oh, good.” Ron stoked the top of Pig’s head absently. “Sirius Black gave him to me, you know? When he came by the other week. Said he felt bad about me losing Scabbers. That bloke’s not so bad, you know, when he’s not biting your leg off and dragging you under murderous trees.”

Harry let out a startled laugh. “I’ll tell him you think so.”

Ron grinned and Harry thought, yeah, they were probably friends now.

The twins were frowning at the letter they’d received, each of them holding onto one side.

“S’from Lee, not much luck getting anything on his end.” Fred sounded frustrated and nowhere near his usual affable self. “We’ll need to figure something out, Georgie, we’re running on fumes as it is.”

“Don’t I know it, Freddy. Maybe once we get to Hogwarts we can run a few bits and bobs to get things rolling.”

“Well, yeah. But we need this summer to work on things, no classes means more time to test and theorise.”

“Hard to do that without capital, brother mine, and we’re running dangerously low on supplies.”

They continued to frown down at the letter. Harry mulled over the thought for a few moments before speaking up. “You guys need money? For this joke shop stuff?”

The twins looked up in unison, matching looks of surprise as if they’d forgotten Harry and Ron were even there. The surprise did not last long, however, melting swiftly into shrewdness as they eyed him contemplatively.

“Inventing isn’t cheap, what with our supplies getting constantly confiscated and the cost of replacement equipment when things go sideways.”

“Not to mention that time spent gathering coin is time wasted not working on product.”

“Not that there’s much opportunity to gather coin around here.” George made an expansive gesture that took in the surrounding empty fields and rolling hills in the distance.

Harry folded his arms over his chest and looked at the twins. He could see they really meant to do what they said, and it wasn’t as if Harry didn’t have money to spare.

“I have coin. I might be willing to part with some of it.”

The twins eyed him with a mixture of suspicion and mounting excitement.

“And what sort of recompense would you require for such kindness?” Fred asked, folding up the letter from Lee Jordan and sticking it in his back pocket.

“It’s not kindness,” Harry corrected with a smirk. “It’s an _investment_. I will help fund your research and development and when you start turning a profit, a fraction of it comes back to me.”

Harry didn’t really need the kickback, but it felt better to negotiate terms rather than resort to straight charity. He suspected the twins felt the same as they were now both sporting matching, mischievous smirks.

“I would prefer to be a silent partner,” Harry continued; there was no way he wanted this getting back to Severus, knowing how much of a thorn the twins already were in his side. “And that you keep any shenanigans out of the Potions classroom.”

“Well, obviously,” George laughed, “we’re not _complete_ idiots.”

“Only half, s’why there’s two of us.” Fred grinned, holding out a hand. “I think we have a deal, Mr. Potter.”

Harry shook both their hands before saying, “It’s Snape, actually. Severus adopted me earlier this year.”

There was a strangled hoot as Ron squeezed Pig too hard in shock. He was quick to release the bird, with a flash of guilt over his face that was quickly overwhelmed again by utter flabbergastation as he stared at Harry with wide eyes. The twins had matching dropped jaws and Harry felt it was quite an accomplishment to be able to pull one over on them.

“We’re keeping it quiet, for obvious reasons,” Harry continued as if none of them were standing there in crisis over the idea of _Snape_ having _children_. “I just thought you might wish to know, if we’re going into business together. I’d appreciate if you kept it to yourselves as well.”

Pigwidgeon flapped around them before finally deciding that the safest place to land was obviously on Harry’s shoulder, next to the large venomous serpent that already resided there. Jax hissed warningly, flicking out his tongue and baring his fangs at the little bird. Pigwidgeon just hooted happily and scooted closer to nuzzle up against the snake, rubbing his fluffy head along Jax’s flank lovingly. Jax tried to hiss again, but the sound was more confused than anything and Pig just hooted contentedly and settled in.

“ _The fuck..._ ” Jax looked from the owl to Harry and back, but Harry just shrugged, bouncing the little owl a bit, which seemed to amuse him greatly.

Meanwhile, the twins looked to have gotten over their shock, so Harry reached into his robes and pulled out his money bag.

“I can give you forty galleons right now,” he said, pulling coins from the pouch and stacking them in George’s hands. “Send me a letter when you need more, and I’d appreciate a progress report on your work. Nothing too detailed, just so I know that my investment is going to good use.” 

They nodded eagerly, splitting the pile of heavy coins between them before secreting the money away.

“You won’t be disappointed, little Snape.” Fred grinned, and Harry fought off his own smile at the address. “This should tide us over for the rest of summer, at least. We can’t do too much bulk buying with Mum on our tails, but this will really help get the ball rolling on a lot of ideas.”

Harry nodded, looking forward to what they came up with. He made a mental note to get another coin purse from Gringotts, one that tied to his other vault. He’d use that one to fund the twins and avoid any potentially awkward inquiries from his father over the discrepancies in his trust account. 

It wasn’t long after that Severus came out to the garden to collect him, and Harry bid the various Weasleys farewell. Pigwidgeon was reluctant to leave his new best friend (no matter Jax’s opinion on the matter,) but Ron was eventually able to entice the owl away with a treat that Pig nearly choked on trying to gobble too quickly. They really were a matched pair.

Back at Spinner’s End, blessedly quiet and empty Spinner’s End, Severus made them mint tea and they both settled in the sitting room with twin expressions of relief. They were both unused to being surrounded by such unrelenting joviality in such a confined space. As much as Harry was coming to like the Weasleys, it would take a lot of getting used to for him to be anywhere near comfortable spending a significant amount of time surrounded by so many of them at once.

Given that his father looked to feel exactly the same, Harry figured they were safe from accepting future invites for a while.

Still, it hadn’t been all bad.

~~~~~~~>

Harry heard the loud rumble of Sirius’ motorbike long before he caught sight of it coming down the dingy street. Harry was up in his room ( _his_ room, utterly and completely _his_ ) working on the last of his Charms summer essay before heading out to work. He had convinced Severus to let Sirius take him to the apothecary; it had taken a lot of wheedling and a promise to help him pickle frog brains down in the lab, but he’d managed it.

Harry quickly donned his work robes and scooped up Jax from the bed before trotting down the stairs just in time for the knock at the door.

“I’ll get it,” Harry said as Severus made to get up from his armchair. He was already scowling, obviously recognising the sound of the bike as well.

Harry opened the door even as his father came up behind him.

“Hey, sprog,” Sirius grinned at him, hands in the pockets of his frock coat and hair a windswept mess that somehow managed to look fashionable, “Snape.” That was said in a neutral tone that was still far and away better than open hostility.

“Black,” Severus replied with equal dispassion. “I expect him back before nightfall.”

The implied threat was met with a tight grin from Sirius, and Harry spoke up before things could escalate any further. “I’ll see you at dinner, Dad.” He pushed forward out of the doorway, forcing Sirius back a step or two.

Severus hmm’d, not taking his eyes off the pair of them as Harry and Sirius walked down to his bike and Harry put on the helmet handed to him. Jax slipped into the saddlebag without complaint. Sirius swung up onto the bike and Harry scrambled after him, waving a goodbye to his father that the man hardly had time to lift a hand to return before Sirius was pulling out and driving down the street and away from Spinner’s End.

Ezra’s apothecary was in a village a good distance from Cokeworth, but Harry didn’t mind the long ride and he suspected Sirius didn’t either, or else his godfather would have simply Apparated them. 

When they finally arrived, the store was vacant except for Ezra filling out a crossword in the Daily Prophet at the counter. He greeted Harry with a grin before turning gleaming eyes on Sirius behind him.

“And who have you brought me this time, Harry? You know my weakness for tall, dark, and handsomes.”

Harry rolled his eyes, but Sirius looked startled for half a second before breaking out in a rakish grin that only looked a bit rusty. He was giving Mr. Jacobi a lingering once over.

“Harry never said he worked for such a charming fellow.” He held out a hand. “Sirius Black.”

“Ezra Jacobi, I was a couple years behind you at Hogwarts. Glad to see you’re doing better, Harry here has been all sorts of worried over you.” Ezra took the hand, shaking for far longer than Harry thought necessary.

“He’s a good kid.”

“I’ve always thought so,” Ezra grinned, running a hand over his shaved head and winking at Sirius, whose rakish grin only grew as he leaned against the counter with slightly out of practice nonchalance.

Harry buried his face in his hands, despairing of his life


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very kindly beta read by [a_stands_for](https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_stands_for/pseuds/a_stands_for)

Severus Snape awoke to a loud hiss. It took a long, bewildering moment to realize that the sound had not come from his son's familiar doing some nighttime wandering, but from himself. Further evidence to that reasoning became apparent as his left arm burned painfully once more and his blood ran cold.

_No._

Sitting up, Severus pulled his arm free from where it had been trapped under Remus’ warm flank, causing the man to grumble and shift. Severus gripped his arm above the Mark, fingers tight against his pale flesh as he attempted to get his racing heart under control and examine the situation logically. The skin around his Mark was red and irritated, but it had stopped burning. For the moment.

It happened, from time to time. Very rarely, when the Dark Lord was feeling particularly vengeful or malignant. Since becoming a shade of his former self, the connection between him and his Death Eaters had weakened, making such occurrences subject only to the strongest emotional exudation. Severus suspected distance to be a factor now as well, unlike when the Dark Lord was at full power--which meant one could assume He was no longer abroad.

Albus would need to be informed. Whatever had drawn the Dark Lord back could not be anything innocent.

“Wha-- Sev? What is it? Why’re you up?” Remus murmured from somewhere near Severus’s hip, a sleep-clumsy hand patting at his leg as if to entice him back into laying down.

“Nothing,” Severus lied, still staring at his arm. “Go back to sleep.”

Did the Mark seem darker? Or was it a trick of the light? A projection of his own bleak thoughts? Severus scowled, glaring at the hateful thing harder. As if his gaze alone might sear it from his flesh.

If only it were that simple.

A warm hand gripped his wrist, stilling the shaking that had started without his notice or permission.

“The Mark? Is it paining you?” Remus had risen up onto his elbow and used his grip on Severus’s wrist to tilt his arm towards himself, examining the red, irritated skin around the tattoo.

Severus felt vaguely ill at the thought of such scrutiny and tried to pull his arm away. Remus did not need any more reminders of Severus’s folly. “It’s fine. Nothing to bother yourself over.”

Remus, stubborn wolf that he was, refused to relent, pulling himself into a seated position beside Severus and keeping firm hold no matter how Severus tried to extricate himself. “If it was enough to wake you, then it most certainly is _not_ fine, Severus Snape.”

Sighing, he allowed Remus to pull his arm across his sheet-covered lap and have a look, knowing there was nothing to be done in any case. The magic the Dark Lord had used to create the Marks had been very precise to his wants and needs; pain was not to be ignored or lessened. Severus would not wish it different, anyway. He had made his choices and the consequences of them were his to bear.

“Does it do this often?” Remus asked, running a careful thumb along the reddened edge of the snake’s head.

Severus held in a hiss, less at the pressure and more for the thought that Remus should not be voluntarily touching something so foul. The man was marred enough without taking on Severus’s tainted mistakes as well.

“From time to time. As I said, it is nothing to be concerned about. The irritation will subside before long.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

“No.” Severus did yank his arm back then, pulling it close to his chest like a filthy secret to be kept hidden in the dark. “Nothing. It will do as it wishes and I will deal with it, as I have done for the last fifteen years.”

Remus did not snap back at him, which Severus would have deserved, merely sighed heavily and took Severus’s right hand in his.

“You don’t have to do this alone, Severus,” he said, pressing the captured palm against a gnarled patch of skin on his own shoulder. “We all have scars.”

“You did not _choose_ yours,” Severus scowled.

“No, but I have them nonetheless. You chose to go against yours, I think that deserves some leniency. I am here for you, love, whether you want me to be or not. It’s a bit too late to start pushing me away because of _this_.”

It was too much, Severus did not have the capacity to deal with such declarations so early in the morning. Or any time of day, really. Remus was far too open with his emotions, far too willing to accept all of Severus’s faults and failings.

Even when Severus could not bring himself to utter the same sentiment back. To bare his own raw and aching insides. To make himself so utterly vulnerable. Irrational fears of mockery tangled irrevocably with his own deep-seated feelings of inadequacy towards all things emotional. _Human._

What was Remus even doing there, with him? How had he allowed things to progress so far when he knew he did not deserve so much as an iota of the kind of happiness he had found with the wolf? The burning in his arm was proof of that.

Bitterness, familiar, acceptable, _safe_ bitterness filled the back of his throat and Severus let it.

Or, he tried to at least. Remus had shifted his captured hand again, bringing it close enough to press soft kisses to his palm, scratchy from a night’s worth of scruff along his cheeks.

“Don’t get lost in your own head, love. I can feel you berating yourself from here. And you know I’m terrible at Mind Magic, so they must be some quite ridiculous notions.”

Severus let out a quiet huff, most of the bitterness exhaling along with the air. He took his hand back once more but replaced its absence with a soft kiss of his own, trying his best to express through the gesture what he could not in words. Though, when Remus made to pull him down onto the bed proper, Severus moved back, putting space between them.

“Go back to sleep.” The words were gentler this time around. “I need some time alone right now.”

“Severus...”

“Shh,” he pressed the wolf more firmly back against the sheets, “it’s not that I do not want you around. I just wish to be alone to think.”

“Brood, you mean.”

Severus smirked, amused despite himself. That seemed to be sign enough for Remus to finally relax against the pillows and wave a permissive hand, as if Severus needed such to wander around his own house in the early hours of the morning.

He gave the man a final kiss before rising and pulling on a house robe, cinching it tightly around his waist. The terrycloth brushed against his Mark, sending another wave of irritation down his arm, but he would rather endure that then have to look at it in the washed out light of the streetlamps seeping in from the window.

His steps were quiet as he made his way down to the kitchen, his bare feet automatically avoiding the stairs that creaked loudest. Severus made tea by rote, forgoing sugar or honey, and sat at the scrubbed table without bothering to turn on a light.

The Dark Lord had returned to England. Of that, Severus was sure. What for was the bigger concern. Was it another grasp for a tangible immortality? A return to power? Was he going to come after Harry again?

Severus had to let go of his mug before he shattered it. No, he would not allow that monster anywhere near his son. He would annihilate the madman himself before he allowed that to happen.

Then again, it could be nothing. He could just be passing through.

What had drawn so strong an emotional reaction, then, to burn through the Mark as it had? Severus would have to make some subtle inquiries, see if he could gather any useful information.

Dawnlight had begun to slowly creep its way across the kitchen at some point, although Severus hardly noticed. His arm had long since stopped hurting even as his thoughts whirled around possibilities and reasonings.

The thing that finally pulled him away from his contemplations was the soft click of a new mug being placed at his elbow. Severus blinked and there was Harry, in sleep clothes with his hair even more of a riot than usual after a night of sleep, looking vaguely concerned.

“You alright, Dad?”

Warmth suffused him and Severus found it insanely difficult to keep his dark mood in the face of it. He allowed a small smile and ran a reassuring hand over his son’s hair, affectionate in a way that was somehow both easier and more difficult than attempting the same with Remus. Damn his irrational heart.

“Fine, Harry. Thank you for the tea.”

The boy nodded, eyes far too serious for a soon-to-be fourteen year old, but at least he understood the desire for quietude with one's own thoughts.

“Sit, I’ll make us breakfast.” Severus rose, taking his fresh cup with him and went to pull bacon, eggs, and scallions from the fridge.

“I can help,” Harry, as stubborn as the wolf upstairs, said as he stepped up beside him. He had grown again, now reaching Severus’s shoulder. He doubted the boy would go much further but was relieved to see progress nonetheless. Some days he dearly wished to pay Azkaban a visit simply for the sheer schadenfreudic pleasure of seeing Petunia suffer.

For now though, he passed the scallions over because it was easier to allow the boy to help than to try and argue the point. Besides, Severus did enjoy working together on such things with Harry, as insane a thought as that might have seemed to him years before, when all had been bitterness and spite.

The scent of frying bacon, mushrooms, and onions soon filled the kitchen and beyond, unsurprisingly drawing a rumpled Remus down the stairs. The man was wearing one of Severus’s nightshirts under his spare house robe and yawning as he scratched at his morning stubble. He _had_ fallen asleep again then, good.

“Mornin’,” the wolf grumbled, stepping up behind Severus and nuzzling sleepily into his shoulder as he turned the bacon. The gesture was so appallingly domestic that Severus could do little more than roll his eyes and allow it.

Breakfast was a quiet affair and Severus found it increasingly difficult to hold onto any sort of bad mood. He was more irritated that he could not decide if that was a good thing or not than he was at his initial misgivings. He would write to Albus, make his inquiries, and perhaps take some preliminary precautions. He would keep his eyes open for irregularities and make sure Harry was on his guard, but he would not waste any more unholy early hours brooding away in the dark. Even if only to avoid the inevitable teasing from his wolf.

~~~~~~~>

Harry’s fourteenth birthday dawned no different than any other day had that summer. It was overcast in Cokeworth, which was par for the course, and there was a distant sound of alley cats fighting. Which was not to say that Harry did not feel irrationally excited in any case. Sirius was coming over for lunch today and Severus had promised to spend time with him brewing down in the basement lab.

Unable to lay in bed any longer, Harry got up and rummaged around in the bedding a bit until he found Jax and took them both downstairs. If nothing else, he could read one of the many books lining the walls while he waited for his father to wake up.

He didn’t have to find a book, it turned out, as in front of the small hearth was a slightly scorched letter addressed to him from Blaise. Harry eagerly tore open the envelope and began reading the slanted Italian. Blaise wished him a happy birthday and talked a bit about the Villa and the boring parties his mother had dragged him to. He wouldn’t mind them so terribly, Blaise explained, if there were more people his age, but he was at least mollified by being able to dress up for them. Which had Harry snorting in amusement, picturing his huffy friend snootily picking at fancy finger foods and complaining about the terribly unfashionable get-ups of the other party goers. Blaise went on to complain a bit about his mother’s partner, who seemed to be under the impression that he needed to make nice with Blaise when he would much rather be left entirely alone to practice his music, thank you very much.

Harry dug out some ink and parchment to start scratching out a reply. He told Blaise all about taking rides on Sirius’ motorbike and some potion experiments he’d been working on. He also wrote about how Sirius was finding more and more ridiculous excuses to show up at the apothecary just to flirt with Ezra and make Harry want to stick his head in a vat of simmering Softening Solution. He thought Blaise might appreciate that bit of gossip. Ezra wasn’t helping matters at all, given that he highly encouraged the behaviour no matter how hard Harry banged his head against the counter when the two of them started up. Mostly Harry disappeared into the back to deal with the piles of paperwork so he didn’t have to witness it.

He couldn’t even tell if they were just messing with him or if it was some weird mating dance that only smarmy, overly-flirtatious adults partook in. Blaise would know, which was another reason to fill out reams of parchment on the matter, so that Harry could both vent and hopefully get some answers. Although knowing Blaise, the other boy would just shake his head disparagingly at Harry and smirk in that all-knowing way of his. Then Harry would be forced to roll his eyes and maybe shove at his friend’s shoulder enough to rumple his robes and wipe that smirk off his face, which would lead to more tussling until Harry forgot why he was irritated in the first place.

Sighing, Harry shook his head clear it of the silly daydream. He missed his friend, but he’d be back at Hogwarts soon. For now, he finished up the letter and set it aside to send out later, just in time for his father to come down the stairs. He stroked Harry’s head as he passed the table where he’d been working on the letter.

“Happy birthday,” Severus said as he readied them both cups of tea.

Harry grinned, unable to hold it back and not really trying in any case. It _was_ a happy day, unlike so many that had gone before. Harry had a father, his snake, a home, a _room_ in that home, and a godfather. It was hard not to be happy in that instant.

“Thank you.”

Severus even returned the smile a little as they shared a cup of tea. Then his father brought out a number of shrunken packages from his robe pocket and resized them on the table between them. Harry grinned wider; he was always so surprised to get presents that it felt special every time.

“From your friends. Open them while I make breakfast, afterwards we can brew if you like.”

“Brilliant,” Harry managed, flushing slightly at the amused smirk his father sent him over the modest pile.

There were books from Sue Li and Padma Patil, plant cuttings from Neville’s greenhouses that would be great for potions (he’d sent some rare seedlings Ezra had helped him acquire for the Gryffindor’s own birthday,) and Draco had sent along another cloak pin with cufflinks and earrings to match. Millicent had dug up another old potion text from her family collection filled with interesting, if morally ambiguous, brews. Blaise had sent him a hat, scarf, and glove combination so soft that Harry shuddered to think how much they had cost. Also in the box was a selection of Italian pastries that Harry immediately bit into. Jax poked his head into the box curiously but retreated at once at the scent of chocolate, hissing irritably. Harry soothed him with one of the Ice Mice that Draco had also included. Justin had given him a cassette, and there was even a box of chocolate frogs from Susan Bones.

Near the bottom of the pile was a lumpy package that turned out to be from Mrs. Weasley and contained another handknit jumper and a box of miniature mince pies. Fred and George had sent along a large carton of Every Flavor Beans and a progress report on their work so far, which seemed to be doing quite well, Harry was glad to hear.

He had just managed to finish clearing away all the detritus when his father came over with plates of pancakes and more tea.

They ate in companionable silence, which Harry much preferred to the chaos that seemed to surround meals at the Weasley household. Afterwards, his father brought him downstairs to show that he had made a space in the lab specifically for Harry, with new cauldrons and his own shelves and a stack of fresh notebooks. Harry hugged the man so tightly he was surprised he didn’t break anything, which would have really put a damper on things.

“I am pleased you like it, but I do need to breathe,” Severus said with an exaggerated wheeze to his voice, making Harry flush and pull back, but he couldn’t manage to drop his smile entirely.

“Thank you, it’s just so--thanks,” he mumbled at the floor, and Severus stroked his hair again.

“You are welcome. Now, what shall we make?”

The morning fairly flew by and before he knew it, the chime that meant someone was at the front door sounded. Severus put their work under a status spell and led the way back up into the house proper, going to answer the door while Harry washed up at the kitchen sink.

Sirius came through carrying takeaway bags from Puri’s, followed by Severus and Remus. His father had even managed to reign in his scowl to a mere thin frown.

“Hey, sprog, happy birthday!” Sirius dumped the bags on the table and swept Harry up in a hug that he returned with minimal tensing. Sirius was kind enough to let go swiftly, and Harry felt they were making good progress on that front, at least.

“Thanks, I’m glad you could come over for lunch.”

“Of course, I wouldn’t miss it. Here, I got you something.” He pulled a soft bundle from under his coat and presented it with a bright smile. It was a bit sloppily wrapped in blue paper and tied with a red string. Harry carefully undid it to reveal a black Ramones t-shirt and he grinned up at Sirius.

“This is great, thank you.”

Sirius beamed.

Lunch was equal parts awkward and amusing, between Severus and Sirius pretending not to snip at each other and Sirius needing to down far too much milk after trying Harry’s portion of curry and finding it the equivalent of fragrant lava.

“ _Merlin’s sweaty balls,_ kid, how are you not on fire?” Sirius panted between gulps as Harry continued to happily eat, unbothered. Jax was snickering at Sirius, amused-sounding little hisses in Harry’s ear.

After lunch, Sirius surprised him with a second present.

“The Quidditch World Cup is coming up soon and I’ve been gifted tickets for the top box by our esteemed Minister.” Sirius rolled his eyes. “A thinly veiled bribe, of course. But who am I to throw away such good seats? I’d been planning to take you anyway once I’d heard England was hosting.”

Harry smiled. “I’ve never been to a Quidditch game outside Hogwarts.”

“Well, this will be extra special then. Ol’ Fudge tossed me a few tickets, so go ahead and invite a friend if you like.”

Harry nodded. He bet Millicent would love to go; he’d send her an owl asking.

It really was a very happy birthday.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very kindly beta read by [a_stands_for](https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_stands_for/pseuds/a_stands_for)

The day before the Quidditch World Cup, Millicent arrived through the Floo at Spinner's End in a riot of red, white, and green, from the streaks she’d drawn through her dark bob, down past the red jersey with _VOLKOV_ splashed across her shoulders, to the striped trousers adorning her bottom half. Harry had so rarely seen Millicent in any sort color aside from black or her emerald Quidditch robes that he found himself blinking against the sight.

“Supporting Bulgaria, are you?”

“Obviously.” She bared her teeth in what could conceivably be considered a smile, if one were not prone to easy intimidation. “And so are you.”

She then proceeded to force a knit cap matching Bulgaria's flag over his messy hair.

Harry snorted but allowed it, having no particular leaning in the match in any case. When he’d received a reply back from the girl, it had been filled with a somewhat frightening amount of enthusiasm, given its source. Millicent was so reserved that Harry always felt it an accomplishment to draw anything out of her. He would gladly put up with some press-ganged Quidditch loyalties if it meant making his friend happy.

“Hello, Professor,” Millicent greeted Severus, who was sitting in his usual chair, flipping through a potion periodical.

“Miss Bulstrode.” He flipped a page. “I trust your holiday is going well.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you for having me.”

“Certainly.”

Harry turned towards the stairs. “Come on, I show you around.”

Millicent picked up the bag she’d dropped at her feet and followed Harry up the creaking staircase.

“That’s the loo,” he pointed to the door halfway down the landing, “and Severus’s room at the end. This one is mine.” 

Harry couldn’t help feeling a bit nervous, as he’d never had a friend over before. Or a room to show said friend. He had spent much of the previous day fastidiously cleaning the already tidy space. He’d moved on from there to the bathroom, and had even tried to give the entire downstairs the same treatment before his father caught him at it and made him stop his frenzied cleaning brigade upon a house that did not need it. He had then proceeded to make Harry _sit down_ and _breathe_ and drink the tea he set before him.

Inside his room Harry did his best to hide the nerves as Millicent poked around curiously.

“You can set your stuff down anywhere.”

Millicent grunted, plopping her rucksack by the door. Harry resisted the urge to tug at his already pristine bedspread to smooth away imaginary wrinkles as she gravitated toward the bookcases lined against one wall. The room wasn’t the biggest, he knew, nothing compared to Draco’s suite at his manor or Blaise’s at his villa.

“Oh shite,” Millicent’s disbelieving exclamation cut through Harry’s mounting panic; she had grabbed a frame off one of the shelves. “Is this Snape as a kid? That’s so weird.”

“Yeah,” Harry shuffled over to peer at it as well, feeling a small smile tug at his own mouth as teenage Severus was prodded into the same by Lily, “and my mum. They were friends.”

“Huh.”

She set the frame back down and moved on to the next. Harry hadn’t realized just how many pictures he’d set on the bookcase. There were ones of Jax coiled up by the fire, and Blaise lounging on one of the sofas in the Slytherin common room. Draco smirking smugly into the camera, not realising his hair was a mess from falling out of its slicked back style towards the end of the day (Harry was glad the boy had started moving away from that look, as it just emphasised his pointed features in an arrogant way.) Even one of Millicent herself, done up in her Quidditch gear and looking as close to openly happy as she ever seemed to allow herself, twirling her Beater’s bat with a nimble motion.

Harry suddenly wondered if it was weird to keep pictures of his friends out in the open like that. He just liked the reminders; it made it easier to remember that he wasn’t alone, that he did have friends.

Millicent didn’t say anything, however, so he figured it was probably fine.

Jax slithered over and insisted on showing the girl all the places around the room he’d had Harry place the warming rocks she’d gifted him that very first christmas.

“Hmm, these are getting a bit small for you I think,” Millicent murmured, pulling out her wand and tapping Jax’s favorite of the stones. “ _Engorgio_.”

The rock swelled to a more practical size for the larger Jax, who hissed excitedly and coiled atop it immediately. Millicent snorted but Harry thought she looked pleased all the same.

“C’mon, I’ll show you the rest of the house. There’s a potions lab in the basement and a good sized garden out back.”

Harry gave her a tour of Spinner’s End, somewhat out of a loss for what else to do. It wasn’t like he had any practical experience entertaining guests. Although he supposed Millicent was the best choice for such a situation, as the girl did not seem to need much in the way of entertaining.

“This place is smaller than I imagined Snape living in,” she commented as they circled the neatly kept garden. “It’s nice though,” she continued before Harry could start to build up his dissipated nerves again.

“Bulstrode Hall is really far too big for just my father and me. It’s better when my uncles are around, but most of the time...” she shrugged and Harry nodded. He liked Spinner’s End the way it was and couldn’t really imagine wandering around a large mansion like Draco’s.

Back inside, Harry went to retrieve Jax before leading Millicent out the front door for a little walk around the neighborhood.

“Don’t stay out too late,” Severus called from the sitting room, “I will be starting dinner soon.”

“Yes, Dad.”

Millicent gave him a bit of a side eye as Harry led them down the street toward the park.

“What?”

“It’s just kinda odd, to hear anyone referring to Snape as _Dad_.” She nudged his shoulder playfully when Harry scowled a bit. “I didn’t say it was a _bad_ thing, just odd.”

Harry shrugged; he couldn’t really argue against it, as it was mostly true.

Whatever reply he might have come up with was dashed away as he caught sight of Liam when they turned a corner. The boy had acquired a skateboard at some point in the past weeks and subsequently also earned a few new holes in the knees of his denims and perpetually scraped palms. Harry had taken pity on his friend and given him a pair of fingerless gloves to protect his hands, at least a little.

“Hi, Harry!” Liam waved enthusiastically, nearly unbalancing himself. He pushed off on the sidewalk and rolled up to them, managing not to crash into Harry in the process, though it was a near thing. “Who’s your friend?”

“This is Millicent, she goes to the same school as me. She’s visiting over the weekend.”

“Hey!” Liam grinned, sticking his hand out. “I’m Liam, I like your hair.”

Millicent blinked, looking startled. Harry didn’t blame her, Liam was a lot to take in for so small a package.

“Thanks,” she grunted, accepting the handshake stiffly after a moment.

Liam didn’t seem too put off, just continued to grin, rocking a bit back and forth on the board. “Oh, Harry, look what I can do now!” He pushed away from them a ways, positioning his feet wide on the deck, his skinny arms spread for balance before managing to hop up into the air with it and land again without the board shooting out from under him (something Harry had been witness to far more times than he could count.)

“Brilliant!” Harry smiled and Liam laughed, even Millicent looked intrigued.

Liam stepped down and tipped the board up to grab it in one hand, holding it out to the girl. “You wanna try? It’s pretty wicked.”

Harry nudged her when she hesitated over taking it, which made Millicent roll her eyes and get that determined set to her features before she grabbed the skateboard and set it back on the ground at her feet.

“How’s your balance? That’s super important. Put your right foot up here and push off with your left, but not too hard or you’ll land on your arse.”

Millicent grunted, waving Liam away and glaring down at her feet. She rolled the board back and forth a couple times before attempting anything else. When she did finally push off it was a bit of a wobbly start, but Millicent just glared harder and the next step was much smoother. Liam clapped loudly as she moved further away, getting the hang of the skateboard much quicker than Harry had when he’d tried. It had taken him at least three attempts to not overbalance onto the sidewalk (which Jax had snickered at him about for a while.) She even managed to turn around somewhat smoothly and head back at a speed it had taken Harry many tries to maintain.

Liam was hopping excitedly by the time Millicent returned, her stop much more controlled than the other boy’s had been. “That was great! Oh, man, you’re a fuckin’ natural.”

Millicent smiled and Harry was glad he had invited her to Spinner’s End, despite any silly misgivings he may have had about his two worlds merging. Anything that could drag a smile out of Millicent Bulstrode had to be worth the effort.

They hung out with Liam for a while before Harry turned them back home. Liam waved goodbye so vigorously that he stumbled off his board and nearly landed on the sidewalk before regaining his balance and grinning sheepishly.

“He’s nice,” Millicent commented as they rounded the corner.

“Well, yeah. I try not to surround myself with terrible people,” Harry quipped, and she snorted.

“I just meant... I’ve never met a muggle before.”

“Really?” Harry raised his eyebrows at that, though after a moment’s thought he supposed it made sense. The Bulstrodes were a very old, pureblood wizarding family; there had most likely never been any reason for Millicent to interact with anything outside of the magical world.

“They really are just people, aren’t they? Like us.”

“Yeah. I mean, not everyone is as nice or friendly as Liam, but yeah. They’re just people, living their lives.”

“Hmm.” Millicent went quiet for the rest of the walk, but Harry didn’t mind, he was used to such things with her.

Dinner was spaghetti bolognese, and if Millicent was surprised that Severus was the one cooking, she hid it well enough. Perhaps she realised that Spinner’s End was really far too small to bother with needing a house elf.

“You know,” she said later as they were hanging out in Harry’s room, “I bet I could charm one of those boards to fly, or maybe hover. It would make getting around the castle a lot faster.”

“I’m sure all the teachers would love that,” Harry snickered, intrigued by the idea in any case. It _did_ sound fun.

“Flitwick might.”

“He probably would. And he’d probably give you points for ingenuity in practical application of charms as well.”

Millicent snickered, amused.

His father came up not long after that to tell them he’d put out a cot for Millicent downstairs in the sitting room (as they didn’t have a sofa.)

“Black informed me he would be here early, so I suggest you retire soon if you do not wish to sleep through the match.”

Sirius did indeed arrive early with Remus in tow, just in time to have breakfast, even if Severus grumbled about scrambling additional eggs for the mutt (although Harry noticed he tipped extra bacon rashers onto Remus’ plate without the man having to ask.) 

“This your friend then, sprog?” Sirius grinned as he nibbled on a corner of toast.

“Yeah, this is Millicent Bulstrode. She plays Beater on the Slytherin team.”

“Oh really? You know my brother, Regulus, played Seeker. How’s the team holding up then?”

Harry had not heard Sirius talk about his brother often, and when he did mention him it was always with an air of mourning. But Sirius seemed to be in one of his better moods that day and it came out less saddening and more wistful.

“Fine,” Millicent grunted, taking a vigorous bite of her own bacon, “better once Harry joins up next year. We’re losing near half the team, so we’ll have our work cut out if we want to take the Cup back from those Gryffs.”

Sirius barked out a laugh and the rest of the meal was awash in Quidditch talk, which Harry was hardly surprised about.

In addition to the knit cap, Millicent had also brought him a jumper in the same colors with a matching one for Jax (which the serpent was delighted over and happily wriggled into.) When they trooped back down the stairs it was to see the tail end of what looked to be a stern talking to that Severus was giving Sirius.

“--a single hair is out of place when he gets back, so help me, Black, they will never find your corpse.”

Sirius, for his part, managed to nod an agreement without needling Harry’s father into further threats. Progress.

“You kids ready? Brilliant. We’ll be back late, Snape. No need to wait up.”

Severus narrowed his dark eyes but didn’t comment, instead pulling Harry into a brief embrace before leveling him with a serious expression.

“Be mindful of your surroundings and keep your wand close at hand.”

Harry nodded. “Yes, Dad. Of course.”

Severus snorted, cupping his cap-covered head briefly and giving Jax a scritch under the chin when the snake lifted his own head up in obvious demand of attention. “I will see you when you return. Don’t let Black run amuck and drag you into any nonsense; wizards in large groups tend to cause far more chaos than necessary.”

It was Harry’s turn to snort but he nodded all the same.

“I suppose you should have fun as well,” Severus finished dryly, and Harry smirked back before bidding his father and Remus farewell.

“Alright guys, grab on tight now,” Sirius grinned, holding out an elbow each and turning them both on the spot into the squeezed-tight blackness of Side-Along Apparition.

They did not land at the forest where the Cup was taking place, however--instead they were on the doorstep of the apothecary.

“What?” Harry blinked, confused.

“Just a quick stop, sprog.”

Any further questions he might have had were answered when Ezra came through the shop’s door wearing a Bulgaria scarf and grinning widely at the sight of them.

“Oh good, looks like we won’t be forced to duel then.” He winked at Harry and Millicent, flicking the scarf before turning a softer smile up at Sirius. Who was ginning that stupid rakish smile again that made Harry want to disappear into the back room, only Ezra was locking the door and cutting off his only means of escape.

“Millicent, wasn’t it?” He grinned at the girl, who grunted. “Wonderful.”

“Shall we then?” Sirius made a bit of a bow at Ezra, who returned it with equal smarm. Harry rolled his eyes.

This time they did land on a patch of dirt packed down hard by the trampling of many feet.

“Move along, move along, more incoming. Unless you wish to be knocked down,” a voice barked out, the owner of which was waving his lit wand to direct them down a well-trodden path and out of the way of the Apparition point.

Sirius led the way with a grin and Harry followed, not at all eager to get trampled by whomever decided to pop up next. A short ways down, the path opened up into a clearing filled to the brim with endless tents of every color imaginable. Some were huge, having multiple stories and chimneys, while others looked like simple lean-tos. Quite a few even had little patches of gardens out front of them. And teeming in and around all of them were wizards and witches in equally colorful garb, shouting and laughing and setting off fireworks. There must have been a _lot_ of layered protections spells over the whole area to hide all the magic from any muggles that might attempt to wander through unawares.

Harry felt as if his head was on a swivel as he tried to take it all in as they weaved their way through the mess.

There a little girl riding a toy broomstick that only hovered about a foot off the ground. And over there a chubby toddler was clapping excitedly over the multi-colored bubbles streaming out of his father’s wand in the shapes of animals. And around the next bend was a tent that seemed to be completely covered in greenery.

Harry made sure to stick close to Sirius, so as not to get lost in the crowd. It was made easier by how tall the man was and the fact that people seemed to want to make way for him when they recognised who he was, a trail of whispers following behind them in their wake. Sirius seemed intent on ignoring the attention, though Harry could see a tightness forming in his shoulders the further along they walked.

“Oi, look over there,” Millicent elbowed him softly, nodding to the right, “isn’t that Diggory?”

Harry looked, seeing a handsome-faced boy that he vaguely recognised from the Hufflepuff Quidditch team standing next to a man with similar enough features that he must have been his father. Diggory seemed to spot them at the same time, waving with a bright smile.

Harry tugged on Sirius’ sleeve and they went over.

“Hey, Bulstrode, Potter,” Diggory greeted affably. “Excited about the match? It looks like it’s gonna be a good one.”

“Who are you supporting, then?” Millicent asked with narrowed eyes. 

Diggory chuckled. “Ireland, if you’ll forgive me for it. Or at least not break my arm in our next game, I swear I had a lump for a week after that last one.” Diggory rubbed at his side in mock pain, to which Millicent smirked. “Their Chasers are just too good.”

“They’re good, yeah, but we’ve got far better Beaters, not to mention Krum.”

“Who’re your little friends, Ced?” the man next to Diggory asked.

“Oh, this is Millicent Bulstrode, she’s on the Slytherin team at school, and Harry Potter.”

“ _Merlin’s beard_ , Harry Potter? Is it really?”

Harry resisted the urge to scowl up at the man, instead putting on his blandest face and nodding, even going so far as to shake the man’s hand when he held it out.

“Amos Diggory, so lovely to meet you. Oh, and Sirius Black as well, that was an awful bit of business. Made me ashamed to call myself a Ministry man, awful.” He shook Sirius’ hand as well, who looked about as thrilled by it as Harry had. “‘Course I only work in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, so not a lot of opportunity for crossover there in any case. Still, just awful.”

“Alright, Dad, I’m sure they have places to be.” Cedric Diggory sent them an apologetic, slightly embarrassed look over his father’s shoulder.

“Of course, of course. Lovely to meet you both.”

They made their escape easily enough, for which Harry was grateful. “Bit pompous, ‘Ol Amos,” Ezra huffed, rolling his eyes. “I’ve always thought so.”

Sirius shrugged, apparently putting the entire incident from his mind--though Harry noticed he had grabbed ahold of Ezra’s hand in the process, which seemed to thrill the other man to no end.

The next familiar faces they came across were what seemed to be the entire pack of Weasleys, plus Oliver Wood. They were all crowded around a little fire in front of a tent so small it might have fit two of them max. Harry strongly suspected expansion charms to be at work.

“Hey, Harry!” The twins greeted in unison with grins to match.

Harry waved and they stopped again to visit with the gaggle of redheads. Sirius and Arthur Weasley immediately fell into a conversation about muggle automobiles, leaving Harry and Millicent to talk with the others. Ron Weasley had been in the middle of extolling all the virtues of the Bulgarian Seeker, Viktor Krum (despite the large shamrock pinned to his lapel) to two Weasleys Harry had never seen before, probably the two eldest brothers. Both were long haired, but one was wearing a dragonhide jacket and had a fanged earing hanging from one ear, while the other, stockier brother had what looked to be moving tattoos peeking out from under the sleeves of this shirt.

The Weasleys had apparently been there since the early hours of the morning, planning to spend the night after the match.

“I heard you got picked up by Puddlemere United, Wood,” Millicent said, which had Oliver Wood puffing up his chest and grinning widely. Percy Weasley, sitting closely next to him, patted him on the shoulder proudly.

“Yeah, it’s been brilliant! I’m only reserve now, but Coach says there’s a very good chance I’ll be moved up to first string next season.”

“Oliver has been working very hard,” Percy nodded sharply, “he deserves it.”

Which had Wood leaning over to smush a kiss against Percy’s cheek, making him go red about the ears as he tried to push the other man away. Wood relented after a moment, grinning in a satisfied sort of way at flustering his partner.

“You’ll get a promotion soon as well, love, I know it. You work three times as hard as I ever could.”

Percy Weasley straightened up into a proper posture, sniffing. “Mr. Crouch will promote me when he feels I’m ready, I just need to prove I can handle the workload.”

“Crouch? Not Barty?” Sirius scowled over at the name.

“Yes,” Percy nodded. “He’s my boss at the Ministry and very smart. He knows over two hundred languages and--” whatever else Mr. Crouch knew was drowned out by the number of complaints (and bits of wood, dirt, and cold sausages) being thrown at Percy. Apparently his siblings were tired of hearing all about Percy’s boss as well.

When the commotion died down, Sirius continued in an unimpressed tone. “Bartemius Crouch was the reason I was sent to Azkaban without a trial, you’ll forgive me if I don’t share your opinion of the man.”

Percy Weasley went a bit pale but managed to nod. “Yes, I-I can see how that might affect things.”

Harry had to give some credit to Percy Weasley, he at least knew when to back down on some things.

The next couple hours were spent wandering around the grounds, admiring all the tents and snickering at the haphazard way a lot of wizards and witches went about trying to seem non-magical. There were World Cup workers constantly running all around trying to wrangle in all the excess magic or to get people to wear proper muggle attire. It seemed a hopeless endeavour to Harry, but he supposed they had to try at least.

When at last it came time to find their seats, Harry and Millicent were both in possession of new pairs of Omnioculars, little Bulgarian flags to wave around, and more snacks than they could possibly ever eat. Sirius had tried to buy Harry just about everything they passed, but Harry had put his foot firmly down until Sirius huffed and rolled his eyes and relented on the condition that he be allowed to get them food. Harry should have specified a tonnage before making the deal, but that was his own fault, he supposed. Besides, Sirius was grinning a real smile that reached all the way up to his eyes, so he would just deal with lugging around a mountain of rainbow colored popcorn and far too many licorice wands for any reasonable person to possess.

It was a long way to the top box, and Harry found himself relieved as people started filtering off to their respective sections, making the stairway much less crowded and confined by the second.

He was surprised to see the Weasleys also in the top box when they finally did make it all the way up. Apparently, Arthur Weasley had gotten the tickets as a returned favor. All of them looked exceedingly thrilled to be there, with the possible exception of Percy Weasley, who seemed to be in attendance out of familial and relationship obligations. Harry had never got the impression he much cared for the sport (despite his obvious appreciation for those that played it--well, one player, at least.)

“Ah, Lord Black, so glad you could make it!” Cornelius Fudge fairly shouted. Sirius quirked an eyebrow, looking down his nose at the Minister, who did not seem to catch the contempt in his gaze. “And you’ve brought your godson, how wonderful. Harry Potter, such an honor.”

It seemed to be a day for reluctant handshakes, as Harry found his being manhandled once more.

“And of course you’ll know the Malfoys.” Fudge gestured behind him, where Draco stood next to his mother and father. He gave Harry and Millicent a little wave. “Other special guests of mine.”

“Of course,” Sirius smirked, “how are you, dear cousin Cissy? Still got that stick up your arse? Oh wait, there it is standing right next to you, my mistake. Hello, Lucius ”

Narcissa Malfoy sniffed haughtily and Lucius looked about ready to draw his wand, but thankfully they were all saved by the arrival of another man, this one dressed in black and yellow-striped Quidditch robes that seemed a bit tight around the middle, with a large wasp splashed across the chest.

“That’s Ludo Bagman, he used to be a Beater for the Wimbourne Wasps, one of the best, too,” Millicent whispered in his ear, sufficiently distracting Harry enough so that he did not let out the awkward laughter that had been threatening to bubble out.

Draco looked equally relieved and Harry felt a pang of sympathy for his friend. It had to be hard, trying to balance between his family loyalties and things he had come to realise were entirely wrong to believe. It was a reason Harry had not come back to the manor to visit again, and he suspected Draco had similar rationalities for not inviting him.

Ludo Bagman started up a loud conversation with Fudge and another man that Harry assumed must have been a foreign Minister. He took the opportunity to tug Sirius as far down the box and away from the Malfoys as he could, past a house elf sitting by herself covering her eyes with her hands (Harry wasn’t even going to ask--house elves did weird stuff all the time, just look at Dobby) and down next to the Weasleys.

Ron Weasley grinned at him as they sat, and Harry couldn’t help feeling some of the rising excitement from the mass of Quidditch goers rise up in him too. Millicent was practically vibrating next to him and gripping the railing with white-knuckled hands.

Harry fiddled with his new Omnioculars, trying out all the different settings. There was zooming, slow motion, instant replays, and about a thousand other things. He was so immersed in tinkering with them that when Bagman’s magically enhanced voice boomed out behind him he jumped so hard he nearly dropped the things over the edge.

“ _Careful,_ ” Jax chided in his ear, “ _it’s a long way down and I don’t feel like splattering all over the fucking pitch._ ”

Harry rubbed the snake’s head in apology as Bagman welcomed them all to the four hundred and twenty-second Quidditch World Cup and brought out the Bulgarian’s mascots. They seemed to be pretty, pale haired ladies that danced with a fluidity that could not be entirely human in nature. Next to him, Ron Weasley looked flushed, his eyes glazed over with wonder as he stared out at the dancing women. Harry didn’t get it, sure they were pretty, but not enough to cause that sort of reaction--because it wasn’t just Ron Weasley that was affected. Looking out over the crowd, Harry saw that same look coming over a vast majority of the wizarding public, and some of the witches as well. Looking over his shoulder he saw even Sirius was looking a bit dopey eyed, although Ezra took it upon himself to pinch the man in the side, which seemed to break through the haze. Sirius shrugged sheepishly and Ezra rolled his eyes.

“Veela,” he explained to Harry, “most find them irresistible. Those inclined that way, at least.”

Ah, that would explain it.

Next to him, Ron made motions to climb the barrier and Harry had to grab hold of the back of his jumper to prevent any disasters. Thankfully, the dance did not last much longer, despite the pleading groans of the crowd.

The Irish had brought Lleprechauns that set off a dazzling fireworks display and showered the crowd in gold coins after some synchronized flying. Jax sniffed at one of them, sneezing heartily afterwards.

“ _That’s not real._ ”

Harry had suspected as much, remembering something about leprechauns from one of his many forays into random books both at Hogwarts and Spinner’s End. He passed the word on down the line of Weasley children, who all looked thoroughly put out.

When the players were announced, Millicent cheered along with each name on the Bulgarian team, booing the Irish. Harry joined in the loud shout as the whistle was finally blown and the match began in earnest.

It was nothing like a Hogwarts Quidditch game; the players were flying almost too fast to see, passing the Quaffle so quickly between them that Bagman only had time to say their names in rapid-fire succession. The Beaters on both sides were deadly accurate but it became quickly evident that Ireland did indeed have the better Chasers, and they were soon up by thirty points. When Bulgaria did manage to score their first goal, the Veela on the sidelines started dancing again.

A minute later the two Seekers suddenly dropped into high speed dive, right through the cluster of Chasers. Harry zoomed in with his Omnioculars but he couldn’t see the snitch, only a burning look of determination on Krum’s face. _He’s faking,_ Harry thought. It was a clever move, but the man was cutting it pretty close to the ground now. They wouldn’t be able to pull up in time.

He was half right: Krum yanked out of the dive with inches to spare, but the Irish Seeker crashed spectacularly into the turf to the loud groans of half the crowd. A timeout was called as mediwizards rushed the field. The man managed to clamber to his feet after a moment and get back on his broom, which Harry thought was pretty impressive after the hit he’d just taken.

Play resumed with Ireland redoubling their efforts and lead. It was becoming increasingly apparent that there was no way Bulgaria would be able to bridge the gap, even if Krum got the snitch, which was about the time that things started to dissolve all around. The Veela did not seem to appreciate being on the losing side and tried to charm the ref, which caused the Leprechauns to retaliate with some very rude gestures in giant formation. That enraged the Veela so much that they grew quite scary looking and started flinging huge fireballs from their _hands_.

Amongst all the confusion, Krum had managed to take a Bludger to the face and was streaming blood behind him. The man hardly seemed to notice, however, as he had shot into another dive following after the Irish Seeker and gaining on him fast. They were approaching the ground at speed once more, and this time Harry could see the glint of gold. Next to him Millicent had grabbed onto his shoulders and was shaking Harry and screaming obscenities at the Irish supporters. Jax was hissing along in agreement, though Harry thought that was more because he liked to swear than anything.

Closer and closer the players raced to the ground, Krum trailing blood but gaining speed.

Harry felt himself holding his breath along with what seemed to be half the stadium.

_CRASH!_

The Irish Seeker hit the ground for the second time, immediately getting trampled by the hoard of stampeding Veela. But Krum had once more pulled out of an insane dive, this time clutching a struggling Snitch in his hand.

The crowd exploded with cheers and groans and indistinguishable cries. Ireland had won by ten points, but Krum had got the Snitch. The whole thing had been a wild ride and Harry couldn’t help grinning madly along with Millicent.

“Ah shit, now I owe Mrs. O’Sullivan an entire cauldron of Hangover Cure,” Ezra moaned from behind them. Sirius let out his barking laugh.

“That’ll teach you to make stupid bets with wily old witches.”

Ezra huffed but he was smiling all the same.

A few minutes later both teams made their way up to the top box to shake hands and for the winning team to accept their trophy. Krum kind of slouched his way inside, looking a bit awkward and duck footed when not on a broom, his face still covered in blood. The Irish Seeker had to be supported by his teammates but seemed deliriously happy to have won nonetheless, or perhaps was just delirious. Getting trampled tended to do that to a person.

Millicent managed to get her jersey signed by the entire Bulgarian team, looking wide-eyed and as un-Millicently bashful as Harry had ever seen her the whole time.

All in all, it had been a very fun day.

Mister Weasley invited them back to his tent for tea and a bite to eat, but Sirius declined.

“If I don’t get this one home soon, Snape’ll have my balls.”

“Ah, yes. I do suspect he would at that,” Arthur Weasley chuckled. “You must come by for dinner again sometime soon, then, Molly has been insisting you need more proper meals in you.”

Sirius laughed and agreed.

They waited a little while for the crowd to thin before making their way down and over to the nearest Apparition point. They dropped Ezra at the apothecary, where Harry chatted with Millicent about the match so he didn’t have to watch his godfather and his boss being soppy.

Severus was indeed waiting for them when they got back to Spinner’s End. He and Remus were in the sitting room, playing a game of wizard chess. Harry was still too awful at the game to see who was winning.

“Congratulations, you managed to bring my son back in one piece. I suppose a modicum of gratitude is in order,” Severus said dryly, rising up from his chair and walking over.

“Don’t hurt yourself acting so magnanimous, Snape, you might pull something.”

Severus merely snorted, which was progress in Harry’s book.

“I had a lot of fun, thanks for taking me, Sirius.” He smiled up at the man, who pulled him into a brief side-hug.

“Anytime, sprog.”

“Thank you, Lord Black,” Millicent echoed, still clutching her Omnioculars in one hand.

“Just Sirius is fine, kid.”

Millicent nodded, looking both thrown at the informality and relieved by it.

Sirius and Remus left not long after and Harry barely made it through dinner with how much he was yawning. The adrenaline of watching the match had long washed away, leaving Harry exhausted. Millicent seemed to be of the same mind, as neither complained in the least when Severus suggested an early night.

It wasn’t until the Daily Prophet arrived the next morning that Harry found out about the Dark Mark appearing in the sky above the grounds surrounding the Quidditch World Cup.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very kindly beta read by [a_stands_for](https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_stands_for/pseuds/a_stands_for)

The paper came as it usually did, via stout barn owl tapping on the kitchen window above the sink as they sat down for breakfast. Harry usually didn’t pay too much mind to it, as there was rarely much of anything interesting to be had. Which was somewhat disappointing for a paper about the magical world. But the sharp intake of breath from his father had Harry looking up from his quiet discussion of the match with Millicent to see that Severus had gone deathly pale and was clutching the paper so hard that the edges were sure to be permanently creased.

“What is it? What’s happened?”

Severus didn't answer but when he opened the paper fully to continue reading Harry saw for himself. Across the front was a large shifting photograph of a smokey symbol hanging heavy and malignant over a sea of familiar tents.

The Dark Mark.

Harry dropped his eggy fork with a clatter made louder by the utter silence that suddenly permeated the small kitchen.

“Who died?” Millicent asked after the silence had stretched for a long, tense moment, her voice a low hush.

Harry watched his father's black eyes scan back and forth over the newsprint at a rapid pace, the intense frown that had taken over his features tightening the deeper into the article he got. Harry suppressed a flinch as the paper was smacked onto the table, disturbing the quiet further but doing nothing to ease the building tension.

“Dad?” Harry whispered, fiddling with the hem of his shirt and wishing he hadn't left Jax by the fire in the sitting room. Was this it? Was _He_ back? A cold sweat started trickling down Harry’s spine as he twisted up his shirt fabric with shaking fingers.

“ _Dad_...”

Severus jolted infinitesimally in his seat, his eyes finally flicking up from the abandoned _Prophet_ to meet Harry’s. His pinched, pale features softened ever so slightly.

“No one. No death.” The words were a bitten-out mixture of relief and asperity that nonetheless had Harry slumping back in his seat and suddenly possessed once more of the ability to _breathe_.

“But, sir, the Mark,” Millicent said, and Harry could see she had her own hands fisted in her lap as well, “it’s only cast when someone’s been murdered.”

“Thankfully,” Severus answered with another narrow, seething look at the paper, “I believe this to simply be a case of drunken idiocy.”

“You would know if it wasn’t, wouldn’t you? If the Dark Lord is really back?” Harry dared to ask even as Severus gave him a searching look.

He had not been unaware of his father’s increased paranoia over the last few weeks. He was up earlier than Harry more often than not, which was an accomplishment in itself. He constantly reminded Harry to have his wand on him and to not be out after dusk, which was sound advice for Cokeworth in any case. Severus only ever seemed to really relax when Remus was there, or when he and Harry spent time in the laboratory fiddling with their various experiments. It was worrying, but Harry didn’t know how to approach the man about his concerns. He merely did his best to follow his father’s orders to the letter and perhaps suggest more time brewing or insisting that Remus stay for dinner.

“Yes, I would,” Severus answered with an aborted motion of one hand toward his left arm where Harry knew his own Mark to be branded under his robe sleeve. “It was not Him.”

Harry managed a tiny nod as his father floated over the teapot to pour them all fresh cups.

“Finish your breakfasts,” he ordered, standing up from the table himself and taking his own steaming cup of tea in hand. “I have some work to do upstairs.”

Harry nodded again, even if he was not feeling much like eating anymore. He did appreciate the hand squeezing his shoulder as his father passed him on the way to the stairs. Next to him, Millicent was glaring at her own half-eaten eggs, suppressed emotion hardening her blunt features even further. Harry reached out and rested his own hand on top of one of her clenched fists, feeling awkward and out of his depth but determined to try. Millicent cut him a look that he supposed was meant to be incredulous but came across far too soft. Harry tried a smile, which earned a snort and rolled eyes, but also an unclenched fist.

They sat sipping their tea and not talking and holding hands as their respective plates grew cold, but by the time Millicent relinquished her grip Harry was feeling much better, and could see that the tension had eased greatly from her shoulders as well.

“Toss that here, I want to see what shite was responsible for this.”

Harry did as asked, pausing only slightly to take in the sinister front page photo again, the headline reading: _SCENES OF TERROR AT THE QUIDDITCH WORLD CUP_.

Harry leaned in to read alongside Millicent, feeling his brows draw closer together by the second.

_Ministry blunders… lax security... no suspects arrested... dangerous Dark wizards running amuck unchecked... rumors of bodies..._

“It seems a bit alarmist,” Harry murmured as they came to the end, flicking his eyes back up to the top and letting out a huff of air. “Ah, Rita Skeeter. She’s always writing highly embellished stories, remember how she tore into Lockhart? I bet there weren’t any rumors until she printed that.”

Millicent grunted agreement, shaking the paper slightly, as if that might jostle a few legitimate facts out of it.

“It was funny when it was that shiny haired git, but this is _important_. Skeeter’s going to cause a panic writing dribble like that.”

Harry hmm’d, nodding. Then he gave a sudden startle so bad it rattled the plates.

“What about Draco? Was he supposed to be staying the night there? I hope he’s okay.”

“He’s fine,” Millicent assured him in so confident a tone that Harry wanted to believe her immediately, despite the mounting panic he could feel crawling its way back up his spine. “If he was there,” she shook the paper again, “you know his father was in the thick of things and would have made sure to steer it well away from his son.”

That was both a reassuring thought and left a bad taste in his mouth. “You’re probably right.”

Harry was still going to send an owl to Draco, just to make sure. And probably one to the Weasleys as well, he knew they had stayed and Harry had grown inexplicably fond of the hoard of redheaded Gryffindors.

“So,” Millicent said into silence, giving Harry a side-eye sort of look, “Snape really was one of them, then? A Death Eater?”

Harry hesitated a moment before nodding once, sharply. “He was. He’s not anymore.”

Millicent pursed her lips and nodded back after a second, “Good.”

“Yeah.”

They fell quiet again for a long minute before Millicent spoke again, into her teacup and decidedly not meeting Harry’s eye.

“My family, they sympathised with the Dark Lord in the last war. I know at least one of my uncles has the Mark. Fled to Romania when He fell, to escape prosecution. We don’t talk about it.” A longer, heavier pause. “Just like we don’t talk about my mother, and how she took the Mark as well and _died_ serving Him. I was just a baby then, barely six months. I don’t even remember her voice.”

Harry swallowed, though it was hard given the lump that had taken residence in his throat. Millicent never talked about her family, aside from innocuous passing statements, and even those were few and far between. Harry never asked, he knew how hard it was to have to think about dead relatives, let alone having people drag it up around you all the time. He didn’t know what to say, nothing had ever really helped him. It all felt so... disingenuous.

After floundering for a moment, he settled on taking her hand again. Silent solidarity over lost parents seemed a better choice than trying to fumble his way through any sort of heartfelt words. No matter that they would be completely sincere, Harry didn’t want to risk it.

Millicent sniffed angrily and Harry pretended not to notice when she rubbed furiously at her eyes with her free hand.

The rest of the morning was an exercise in deflection. Neither of them wished to dwell on unpleasant things, but both seemed to find it difficult to shake the dark mood that had descended over Spinner’s End. Severus did not emerge from his room until it was time for Millicent to leave back through the Floo to her own home, and when he did, Harry noticed his father was still far too pale and tense.

“Thank you for having me, Professor. I had a lovely time,” Millicent said with a somewhat formal sort of half-bow that must have been a pureblood gesture, as Severus returned it with a sharp nod of his own without question.

“Of course, Miss Bulstrode. I shall see you at start of term.”

She gave Harry a far less formal chuck on the shoulder that had him smiling slightly despite the day, and gave Jax a scratch under the chin before hitching her rucksack more firmly on her shoulder and disappearing in a flash of green flames.

Harry stood for a while, just looking into the once-more red and orange fire, feeling slightly adrift.

His father seemed to pick up on it, however, and turned Harry to face him with long-fingered hands firm and steady on his shoulders to either side of Jax.

“Harry, son, look at me.”

He did after a moment of staring at a scorch mark on the wooden floor and trying to decide if it came from an errant coal or an old cigarette burn. It was a flimsy distraction anyway, so it was no wonder he gave it up so quick.

“Do not put too much heed into the actions of inebriated fools. As I warned you before, wizards in large groups are a recipe for ruination.”

“But what if it’s a sign? What if the Dark Lord is gathering power again and these few were just too idiotic to keep it to themselves?”

“Dolts they very well are, but I assure you, should He really be gathering supporters once more, they would know better than to cross the Dark Lord in such a manner before He deemed it an appropriate time to announce His return.”

Harry let out a slow breath, nodding. That made sense.

“And you would know.”

“And I would know,” Severus reassured him, squeezing Harry’s shoulders.

There was a tapping on the kitchen window, startling Harry enough to break him out of the budding anxiety that had been threatening to take over. Although his father had been doing a remarkable job at keeping the buzzing panic from building too much steam in any case.

The tapping came again, more frantic, and Harry ducked around Severus to see Pigwidgeon fluttering madly outside the window with a letter bigger than he was tied to his minuscule leg. Harry had sent a quick note to the Burrow through the Floo earlier, thinking it was probably a bit rude to do so, but he’d been worried enough to risk the broach in protocol. He sent letters to Blaise in that manner because his friend lived all the way in Italy and it would take far too long to correspond otherwise, but for closer distances it seemed the proper thing to do was use owls. It was more private, at least, as a letter sent by owl tended to go straight to the designated person instead of flopping out onto the hearth where anyone could pick it up and read. It was the main reason he was holding off writing to Draco until he got to the apothecary and could use Ezra’s owl to send his friend a letter--he didn’t want to risk Lucius or Narcissa happening across it, though he would still use the intervening time to craft a carefully worded missive so as to have _some_ plausible deniability should that happen anyway.

Harry let Pig in and the tiny owl hooted delightedly and flew around the room in excited circles before finally landing on the table and allowing Harry to untie the letter. As soon as he was freed, Pig launched himself back up only to resettle next to Jax on Harry’s shoulder, nuzzling the serpent with a contented little hoot.

“ _Fuck off before I eat you_ ,” Jax hissed.

Pigwidgeon wriggled happily, fluffing up and staring at Jax with shining eyes much too large for his head.

Jax gave a disgusted hiss and slithered his way down Harry’s body to go hide under a chair in the sitting room. It was a pointless maneuver, as Pig was so small he had no trouble following happily along.

Harry snickered as he opened the letter, his dark mood nearly dissolved entirely and made better once he saw that, according to Ron’s untidy convoluted scrawl, all the Weasleys had gone away unscathed. Though apparently Bill and Charlie (the two elder brothers he’d seen around the fire but had not caught the names of, so he had little idea which was which) had jumped into the action alongside Arthur Weasley, and even Percy and Oliver had joined in. Ron and the twins had wanted to go too, but his dad had forbidden them. Ginny had lost her wand at some point, but they had found it again beside a house elf--according to Ron it had been used to conjure the Mark in the sky and then dropped. They had nearly been accosted by Aurors over it, until their father had shone up and explained how ridiculous it was to think a thirteen year old witch would know how to do such a thing. Then they’d tried to blame it on the elf, an equally ridiculous notion, but one that still ended in the poor elf being freed against her will. As if that would save Bartemius Crouch’s face with the entire situation, as it turned out the house elf in question was _his_.

The entire situation would be darkly amusing if it wasn’t so awful. Harry thought of Dobby; he had longed for freedom, but he was the exception when it came to house elves. Most thrived on their work and loved serving their masters, as long as the masters they served were worthy of it. It was tied in with their magic and entire society. Harry had done a lot of research on house elves after Dobby. It was a sort of symbiotic bond that formed between households and the elves that joined them, both intended to better the other. Hogwarts and its elves excelled at it, while the Malfoys’ treatment of Dobby proved how twisted it could become if not treated with the respect it deserved.

He hoped the elf found a better master, one that would appreciate them more than Crouch had. Harry’s opinion of that man (already lowered due to his treatment of Sirius) sunk even further.

There had also been a bit of trouble involving the muggle family that watched over the grounds, but Ron assured him their memories had been altered and they wouldn’t remember a thing. Harry didn’t know how he felt about that. On the one hand, he did not like to see people suffer through unwanted pains, but at the same time the idea that someone could just go through your head and erase stuff willy-nilly was a scary thought. He was very glad in that moment for his father’s insistence that he learn Occlumency.

On the whole, at least, it looked as if Skeeter’s reporting had been a lot of blatant fear-mongering and pot stirring as he’d suspected.

At the bottom of the letter was a p.s. stating that Mrs. Weasley insisted they come over for dinner at least once more before the new school term started, and Harry held in a small sigh. It was his own fault, really.

He passed the letter over to Severus, who had spent the intervening time preparing a soothing lemon ginger tea that he offered in exchange. Wandering into the sitting room, Harry saw that Jax had abandoned the chair and was now slithering in a swift, complex pattern over the floor in an attempt to dislodge the merrily hooting Pigwidgeon, who had taken up residence atop him and did not seem deterred in the slightest by the crazed ride.

“ _Gerroff me you fucking fluffy ball of shit_!”

Pig hooted, delighted.

“ _I don’t know, buddy_ ,” Harry said, taking a sip of tea to hide his smirk, “ _I think you made a friend._ ”

Jax let out an inarticulate series of hisses but ceased his mad dance across the floor and flopped down in front of the fire with a grumble. Pig hopped off at once and cuddled up next to his head with a contented hoot. Harry went up the stairs to grab some parchment and ink to reply to the letter, and managed to get back down in time to snap a picture with his camera of the two of them. When Jax saw what he was doing he gave Harry a venomous glare, but Harry only smirked wider and took another picture.

~~~~~~~>

When his Hogwarts letter finally came, there was an oddity in it. Aside from the usual series of books and things needed, a pair of dress robes were required this year.

“Why robes?” Harry asked, scanning the letter for further information and finding none.

His father heaved a sigh and portioned links of sausage onto Harry’s plate before doing the same to Remus’ next to him.

“Because Professor Dumbledore feels the need to complicate my life needlessly and often.”

Harry squinted up at him but decided against further inquiry. “Should I get new ones? Or are the ones I already have fine?”

“Do you wish to get fitted for new robes?”

“Not particularly.” He could hear a noise in the back of his mind that sounded suspiciously like Blaise tutting even as he said it.

“As long as the ones you have still fit appropriately, I see no reason to waste the time or money then.”

Harry nodded, relieved. “Do you know who the new Defense Professor is yet?” he asked, suppressing a wince as he glanced sideways at Remus, who did not seem bothered by the mention of his previous job.

“Yes,” Severus replied curtly, glowering at the small pile of beans on his own plate as if they had done him a great wrong. So he hadn’t gotten the position this year either. Harry felt a stab of sympathetic bitterness and resentment towards the Headmaster. “Alastor Moody.”

“Mad-Eye? Teaching _children_?” Remus coughed, having tried to breathe his tea instead of drink it. “What is Albus _thinking_?”

Severus tapped the side of his hooked nose in apparent agreement.

“Who’s Alastor Moody?” Harry asked curiously.

“An ex-Auror. Used to be one of the best,” Remus answered. “He’s responsible for upwards of half the filled cells in Azkaban on his own.”

“Sounds like he’d be a pretty good Defense teacher, then.”

Severus snorted, cutting his own sausages into precise little pieces. “He might have been a great Auror once, but now he’s a paranoid and cantankerous old man that would rather see me rotting behind bars than at a cauldron, doing my _job_.”

“He tried to send you to Azkaban?” Harry glared, clutching his own fork as if preparing to fight off the very idea of it.

His father snorted again, smirking in a darkly satisfied sort of way. “He _tried_.”

“Is he going to give you trouble this year?”

“Undoubtedly,” Severus shrugged, returning to an air of unconcern. “Although there is nothing he can really do, as much as he may wish to. Dumbledore would never allow it.”

Unconvinced, Harry turned to Remus. “Why don’t you come back? Sirius is doing much better now, I’m sure he could handle you teaching during the day and returning to London at night.”

It was a selfish request; Apparating that far every day, twice a day, would be exhausting. Harry knew it and it was unfair to shift his worries onto Remus, who was already shouldering so much.

The many only smiled kindly at him, however, and shook his head softly.

“Even if I wanted to, Albus has already made the appointment. And there are other factors in play now, in any case.” This last part was said with a slightly bitter tinge.

“What do you mean? What’s happened?” Harry asked worriedly. “Are you sick?”

“No,” Remus chuckled dryly, “well, no more than usual. There have been some new laws passed that make it very difficult for me, _my kind_ , to find employment. I could not ask Albus to put himself in that sort of position just for me.”

“I don’t understand. Nobody knows what you are, how would the Ministry even find out?”

“The _Ministry_ have known what I am since I was five years old. They have a registry for Dark creatures that they used to only spare a passing glance at when their hands were forced. And they know that Albus knows. With the scare at the World Cup, new, stricter laws have been established.”

“You mean a hateful, bigoted, despot of a witch muscled her toady way into putting that utter tripe through on the backs of panicking civilians,” Severus growled out. Remus tilted his head in acknowledgement.

“But that’s not fair. Werewolves had nothing to do with what happened at the Cup.”

Remus shrugged, taking a slow measured sip of tea. “I had stopped expecting life to treat me in any manner resembling fairness quite a few years ago, now.”

“Is this why you’ve been having trouble finding work?” Harry felt a bubbling, righteous, anger building within him.

Remus nodded, finally losing some of the placid facade he was so skilled at keeping up.

“It’s not so bad, Harry. Don’t worry about me. I won’t be out on the streets any time soon. Severus and Sirius would never allow such a thing. It may take some time, but things will settle, they always do.”

“It’s not right,” Harry insisted, and Remus smiled kindly at him. Why was the man not furious?

“No. But that’s life for you. We do our best to overcome all the terrible things it throws at us, and sometimes we catch something good.” He turned his smile onto Severus who rolled his eyes but did not refute.

Harry shook his head, but he knew better than most how true that was. It did not mean he had to like it. Then an idea came to him.

“Why don’t you go work for Ezra? I’ll be leaving for Hogwarts soon and he’ll need someone to help out with the paperwork and stuff, he’s terrible at keeping it all organized. And there’s always prep work and sweeping and deliveries.”

Remus blinked then shook his head. “No, I can’t ask him to do that. It’s too much risk. He could lose his business and then Sirius would be so mad at me.” That last part was an attempt at a joke, but Harry refused to back down.

“No, it’s not. He could pay you under the table like he does me. And even if some Ministry lacky comes sniffing around, he could just claim ignorance.”

“I can’t Harry. It’s very kind of you to try and help, but this isn’t a problem you’re meant to deal with. I’ll figure something out on my own.”

“That’s just stupid,” Harry said before he could censor himself, his indignation at the entire situation just bursting out of him. “You need help. Ezra can help. You’re just being bloodyminded about it for no reason.”

Remus gaped at him and then turned to Severus, who just gestured with his fork vaguely. “The boy has a point, Remus. As much as I eschew any amount of time in that man’s presence, he would do as Harry says.”

“Severus...”

“Now who’s being the stubborn one?” Harry’s father smirked and Remus huffed out a sigh before tossing his hands up in defeat.

“Fine. Have it your way. I’m sure Sirius will be delighted at this development.”

Severus rolled his eyes and they finished up breakfast without further disaster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, just dropping a note to say that having Pig in this chapter reminded me that I never put up a thank you to [Capucine9](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Capucine9/profile) who drew an adorable picture of Jax and Pig a few chapters ago which now that I'm going back to find the link for it seems to have vanished. So you will just have to imagine the adorableness. I swear it was super great. Anyways, Hogwarts next chapter, yay!


	6. Chapter 6

Remus settled into working at the apothecary as easily as Harry knew he would. Taking to organizing invoices and fine tuning brewing schedules with a deft hand and wry smile. He was polite to the customers and endlessly patient when dealing with any complaints or unpleasant patrons. So much so that Ezra was soon leaving the front end completely in the other man’s hands while he and Harry concentrated on brewing special orders, preparing ingredients, or stirring up more batches of the potions they kept on hand for easy pickup; like Headache Cures, Pepper-Up, and Calming Draughts.

Remus didn’t even mind doing _inventory_.

“I swear to Merlin, Harry,” Ezra murmured as he watched Remus deftly handle curmudgeonly old Mr. Driscoll (who hated everybody and yet insisted on grumbling at length to anyone within earshot about his numerous, highly personal, ailments) with not a flicker of irritation or impatience (and somehow also managing to get Mr. Driscoll to leave with his prescriptions in record time), “if your darling father had not already snatched him up, I would sweep Remus Lupin off his adorably scuffed feet in an instant.”

Harry tried not to make a face and failed judging by the pleased smirk dancing around Ezra’s eyes.

“I don’t think you should let my dad hear you say anything like that, he gets pretty possessive. Also, Sirius might have something to say about it as well.”

Ezra sighed heavily and sagged against the door jam leading into the backroom dramatically.

“You are right, of course. I shall have to simply admire from afar. I should hate to upset my sweet puppy with idle daydreams.”

Harry attempted not to gag and was marginally more successful at that than hiding his expression. Still, he abandoned his boss for the laboratory and the cauldron of bruise cream he’d left simmering, it was time to add the lemon oil.

Ezra even offered to make the Wolfsbane potion for Remus, should Severus ever find himself unable to do so, at no cost.

“That really is unnecessary,” Remus protested, “this job alone is more than enough kindness as it is.”

“Call it an employee benefit then.” Ezra smiled, wide and uncompromising, “I’ll not be having you falling more ill than necessary. And you’ll be taking the days of the moon off to rest up, with pay of course, no arguing.”

“Nonsense, I am perfectly capable of--”

“Zzzt!” Ezra cut the other man off, hands on his hips in a fair imitation of Molly Weasley berating the twins, “No. Arguing.”

Remus huffed, looking equal parts beleaguered and deeply touched as he reluctantly acquiesced. Harry ducked his head to hide his own pleased smile and continued sweeping.

The rest of August seemed to pass swiftly and before Harry knew it he was climbing onto the back of Sirius’ motorbike early on the morning of September first. His trunk had been shrunken and stowed in a saddlebag with Jax equally secured in the other. Severus was standing on the front step to Spinner’s End with his arms crossed and a thin lipped scowl directed Sirius’ way. That was his usual expression when looking at Harry godfather, however, so he did not pay it much mind and waved goodbye, getting a reassuring nod in return. He would be seeing his father again before the day was even through, but it still felt like the sort of thing one did when leaving.

Sirius had insisted on driving Harry to King’s Cross and Harry had readily agreed, barring permission from Severus of course (which had taken a bit of carefully applied wide-eyed pleading and a touch of shrewd negotiation, but he’d gotten there in the end). Sirius had also accompanied him to Diagon for his school supplies, insisting on paying for everything no matter how Harry protested.

“I am your godfather, sprog, it’s my right to spoil you.”

In truth, Harry hadn’t tried too hard, as he could see how happy it made Sirius to dote on him. Even if the very idea itself was such a foreign concept to him, Harry supposed that was an issue with _him_ more than anything.

He _had_ put his foot down when Sirius dragged him into a clothing shop to try and get him even more things to wear (Harry got enough of that from Blaise and Draco as it was).

“C’mon, just try it on.” Sirius pressed a black dragonhide jacket with far too many superfluous buckles into his arms. “The girls’ll go wild over you.”

Harry flushed bright red and shook his head furiously.

“But I don’t _want_ them to.” The thought of a gaggle of giggling girls trotting after him was quite terrifying, actually. Ginny Weasley was already more than enough and she barely spoke to him.

“The boys then,” Sirius winked and Harry felt his face heating inexplicably darker still.

“I already have a jacket,” he mumbled, acutely aware of the frayed cuffs of said garment as he fumbled with the dragonhide coat in his hands, “I _like_ my jacket.”

It had been his father’s once and Severus had let Harry keep it when he’d discovered the theft, had even spelled it to fit better. The dark denim was comfortable and reminded him of home, he didn’t want a new one.

Thankfully, Sirius seemed to pick up on his mood and took the dragonhide jacket back without further protest.

“Alright, new boots then. You can’t lie and say you don’t need a pair of those.”

Harry scowled and scuffed at the floor with a toe of said boot but couldn’t deny that he had outgrown them a bit. It shouldn’t be surprising as he’d had the things since he was _eleven_ , it was bound to happen eventually. No matter how comfortably worn in they might have once been, they had started to pinch.

Sirius at least let him pick his own pair, one with far fewer embellishments than he suspected his godfather would have chosen had he been left solely to the task. The shopkeeper even spelled them a dark purple for him that Harry could probably get away with at school, given how long his uniform robes were. He had seen other students wear far more conspicuous footwear. So Harry had allowed the new boots but steered them out of the shop before Sirius could get any more ideas about dressing him up. Or prying into his non-existent love life.

The ride to King's Cross was a bit cold and damp as a light drizzle had started up as they sped along the road. But Harry didn't mind too much as they wove in and out of traffic that grew steadily heavier the closer they got to London. As cold as the wind whipping by their faces was, it didn't do much to diminish the excitement or sense of freedom instilled by the growling bike and open air.

After finding a place to park the bike and fighting their way through the crowded station, Harry and Sirius casually meandered to the barrier between platforms nine and ten. Harry couldn't suppress a small grin as they approached, he hadn't used this entrance since his very first year. When everything had been so huge and frightening and unknown beyond it. When he’d left Number Four forever to start a new chapter in his life.

Sirius gave him a bit of a nudge and they both melted back through the haze of bricks to reappear before the giant scarlet steam engine and platform teeming with excited schoolchildren and slightly frantic parents.

“ _Merlin,_ ” Sirius breathed, “this takes me back.”

Harry glanced up to see his godfather with a distant sort of look on his face, mouth pulled into a bittersweet smile twisted by nostalgia and the shadow of what had come to pass. Harry did not care for the look one bit, Sirius dwelt too much on what-might-have-been already. No matter that it hurt him to do so.

Harry, out of desperation to not see the man spiral further down the rabbit hole and lack of any better idea, took Sirius’ hand and pulled him away from the barrier and closer to the train. It wouldn’t help to be run over by a mob of energetic kids running full tilt through the passage.

The gesture was thankfully enough to startle the look off of his godfather’s face, as Harry so very rarely initiated contact. He gave Sirius’ hand a gentle squeeze before letting go and the man grinned ruefully, raking that same hand through his long hair.

“Got lost in my head a bit there, sorry sprog.”

“It’s fine,” Harry resisted the urge to shuffle his newly booted feet, “are you alright?”

Sirius barked out a laugh that was tinged with bitterness but not completely overtaken by it. Which was progress.

“Don’t worry about me, Harry.” He ruffled Harry’s perpetually messy mop of hair and Harry allowed it, found he did not mind so much in that instant.

“Harry!” A shout called across the platform and he turned to see Neville waving merrily and starting towards them.

As the other boy got closer, it was evident that he’d gone through one hell of a growth spurt. Gone was the baby fat that had persistently clung to the Gryffindor, leaving his once rounded face square-jawed. He also seemed to have spent the majority of his summer outside tending to his plants, as Neville had replaced much of his soft corners with muscle and added height. What had not changed, however, was the goofy grin that the other boy sported or the way he almost tripped over his own feet in his enthusiasm to greet Harry.

“Hey, Neville.” Harry allowed a smile, “Have a good summer, did you?”

“It was brilliant! My venomous tentacula started _teething_ and Gran got me an Alihotsy sapling for my birthday! It took a bit of experimenting with the soils but now it really seems to be thriving, I’ve set Bizzy to watering it while I’m at Hogwarts. I think he’s quite taken to the idea of caring for the plants, after that little scare with the devil’s snare.”

Harry snorted, well aware of the determined nature of house elves to overcome any task, no matter the challenge involved.

“Oh, Neville, this is Sirius Black,” Harry did his best to not sound awkward introducing him when the other boy more than likely knew exactly who was at Harry’s side, still it was only polite, “my godfather. Sirius, this is Neville Longbottom, one of my closest friends.”

Neville flushed and grinned, bashful still despite his newly broadened shoulders.

“Longbottom, eh?” Sirius held out a hand, his gray eyes clouded over with some distant anger, “You’ll be glad to know my cousin and her cohorts are rotting away quite terribly in their cells.”

Neville’s entire demeanor hardened over in an instant as he shook Sirius’ hand, the anger much more evident in his usually cheerful face.

“ _Good._ ” The singular word was spat out with such venom that Harry had to blink and resist the urge to step back.

Neville never talked about why it was he lived with his Grandmother, but Harry had pieced together an idea over the years from whatever trickles of information the boy did let out. He knew it had something to do with Bellatrix Lestrange, something vile. He could have looked up details, but that felt like a betrayal of trust. If Neville wanted him to know he would tell Harry himself. Also, Harry’s curiosity did not extend quite so far as to want any more horrendous acts of hate and violence crowding his already overfilled head.

He would listen if Neville chose to speak of it, but Harry would not go seeking answers himself.

The loud whistle of the Hogwarts Express signaling departure time to be fast approaching broke the heavy mood that had overshadowed the three of them and Neville finally dropped the twisted, angry look from his face. For which Harry was relieved, it did not suit the Gryffindor in the least.

“I best go find Gran, I’ll see you on the train Harry. It was nice to meet you, Lord Black.”

“Sirius, please.”

Neville smiled and nodded, looking pleased as he trotted off, managing not to knock over a trolly full of trunks that veered into his path, if only barely.

“He seems like a good sort, but so were Frank and Alice.” Sirius murmured darkly, Harry did not ask for clarification.

“I better get on board if I want a good compartment.” He said instead, the forced change of topic inelegant but Sirius let it be.

“Alright, sprog.”

Before allowing Harry to get on the train, however, he pulled him into a tight hug.

“Have a good year. Write to me if you get a moment, I want to hear all about how much arse you start kicking at Quidditch.” He grinned mischievously, “Try and give Snape a bit of hell for me as well, hmm? Best to keep that man on his toes.”

Harry rolled his eyes and Sirius barked out another laugh, this one completely genuine.

“Thanks, Sirius. For...” Harry searched for the right words to express himself but came up empty.

His godfather seemed to get the gist however and pulled him into another firm hug.

“Love you, sprog.”

Harry made an inarticulate noise and hugged back for want of anything else to do. It was overwhelming to be on the end of such sentiments when Harry was so terrible at returning any sort of verbal response. He hadn’t even been able to manage such with his own _father_ yet. Although Severus knew how he felt in any case, even without words. Perks of being a pair of Slytherins, he supposed. Even if Harry did feel a squirming sort of guilt at his own emotional incompetence. He should be able to say the sort of things he could feel welling inside of him, he _should_. But Harry could only return Sirius’ hug with force and hope that was enough.

One day, perhaps, he would be stronger.

“Listen to Remus,” he instructed Sirius, as if badgering the man about such things would make up for his lack in other areas, “don’t miss any sessions with Healer Michaels. Or meals, you need to eat. And don’t let Ezra drag you into any ridiculous shenanigans.”

“But I do so enjoy shenanigans.” Sirius protested with a roguish grin, Harry rolled his eyes.

The whistle blew again, louder and more insistent. Harry gave Sirius a final wave before stepping back and hopping aboard. His godfather looked equal parts proud and sad to be seeing him off, and Harry tried not to revel too much in the warm feeling being seen off like any other kid caused him. Normality had always been a struggle for Harry and this little instance of being just the same all the other departing students was both heady and surreal.

As Harry walked the length of the train looking for a place to settle, Jax emerged from under his jacket to situate himself more comfortably across Harry’s shoulders. It had the added benefit of clearing the path before him, as most of the other children tried their best to sidle past the boy with the large snake just hanging off of him. Jax hissed at a pair of first years playfully, causing them to squeak and tumble back into each other in an effort to get away.

“ _Stop that,_ ” Harry admonished, as he finally found the compartment that held not only Neville, but Luna Lovegood as well.

“ _But it’s so fun to watch them scramble._ ” Jax huffed and Harry jostled his shoulder, making the snake bounce.

“ _Alright, alright, fuck._ ” Jax licked at Harry’s ear before abandoning him for the welcoming arms and generous scritches of Luna Lovegood.

Harry meanwhile unshrunk his trunk and stowed it up on the racks before taking a seat across from Neville. The other boy immediately launched into a rambling story about a new method of splicing magical plants together that Harry was thankfully saved from by the arrival of Blaise, five minutes later.

Blaise had also not had the decency to stop gaining height, although the most startling change was that he had evidently decided to grow out his hair. Where once it had been closely cropped to his head, now it fell in large, dark, ringlets about his face. Looking so soft and shiny that Harry had the inexplicable urge to run his hands through them. It was perhaps a good thing that Blaise had kept on growing, as Harry would have had to rise up on his toes to achieve such an impulsive goal. He shuddered at the thought of the amount of hair potions his friend must have to go through to maintain the look.

Still, it was a very nice one, and Harry stuffed his hand in his pockets to avoid the temptation in any case.

“ _Ciao,_ ” Blaise greeted the compartment at large, settling into a free spot next to Harry.

Neville waved, smiling, and Luna starred with her pale eyes wide and slightly unnerving to those not used to such attentions.

“You’re hair is very shiny now.” She stated airily.

Blaise smirked, pleased, taking it for the compliment that it probably was.

“It is, isn’t it.”

Millicent and Draco arrived next and Harry watched the boy closely as he slumped down next to Luna with surprisingly little protest. He looked a bit wane, but otherwise fine. Harry had been worried, as the few letters they’d been able to exchange had been exceedingly vague and not very reassuring. Lucius Malfoy had no doubt been involved at the cup and Draco knew it. It must have been very awkward, to say the least, having to spend the last few weeks of summer pretending that it did not bother him.

As much as Harry hated seeing his friend in such a state, he was glad that the blonde realised how wrong his father was in doing what he’d done.

Millicent’s hair had been returned to its usual demure dark brown bob, Harry was slightly saddened to see, as he’d quite liked the streaks of color. Liam had asked after the girl when Harry had seen him last, saying she was pretty cool in a could-beat-you-up sort of way. Which when Harry repeated the compliment made Millicent smirk in satisfaction. The others had seemed interested in hearing about Harry’s muggle friend, which in turn had led to discussion of the World Cup.

And although they kept mostly to the game itself, the heavy unspoken shadow of the Dark Mark’s appearance loomed in all their thoughts nonetheless.

Draco seemed the most distracted, however, as he kept staring into the empty space above Neville’s head. Jax even abandoned he perch in Luna’s lap to shift over and offer himself up for pets from the blonde, who gave them absentmindedly and with none of his usual enthusiasm towards the serpent.

All in all, Harry was glad to see Hogsmeade Station appear outside the windows, even if it was slightly difficult to make out due to the drizzle that had developed into a sweeping gale of a rainstorm.

“ _You better get under my cloak, buddy._ ” He told Jax after they had all changed into their school robes. Jax didn’t protest, securing himself snuggly under the heavy garment.

It was a bit of a struggle against the wind to get to the carriages but they made it soon enough, at least the thestrals did not seem all that fussed over the weather. Harry patted one on the flank as he passed them, earning a barely audible whinny in return. They did not make him feel uneasy anymore. It was not their fault that he could see them. Luna, her pale hair being tossed every which way by the wind followed suit, taking a moment to coo at the nearest dragonish horse before Neville shuffled her the rest of the way into the carriage before they were all swept away by the storm.

“Urg,” Blaise made a disgusted noise as he looked down at the state of his robes, casting a cleaning charm despite the fact that they’d just become even more ruffled and mud-splattered by the time they walked up to the castle doors.

When Harry pointed this out, Blaise sniffed haughtily, “It’s the principle of the thing.”

Draco nodded in agreement, having done the exact same thing. Harry shared an exasperated look with Millicent.

Inside the entry hall when they finally did make it up to the castle was Peeves. Chucking water balloons at already soaked students whilst cackling madly and avoiding the spells shot at him by an irate Professor McGonagall.

“Cease this behavior right this instant, Peeves!”

“Ain’t doing nothing!”

“I will call the Headmaster! I will summon the _Bloody Baron_!”

Peeves blew a giant raspberry in McGonagall's direction before dumping the last of his balloons on a hapless group of second years and zooming off through the ceiling.

McGonagall straightening her pointed tartan witch’s hat before glaring imperiously at all the giggling students.

“Off with you lot, into the Great Hall before I start deducting points before the year’s even begun.”

Harry waved a goodbye to Neville and Luna on the way to the Slytherin table, his stomach already growling at the thought of the feast soon to be appearing.

At the teacher’s table, he saw his father seated at his usual spot on the very end directly in front of his House’s table. He was scowling at the sea of rambunctious children flooding the Hall and Harry could not help but be amused by it. Hagrid was absent, still ferrying students across the lake, Harry suspected. The rest the staff table, minus McGonagall, were there excepting the empty space that Harry assumed belonged to their new Defense Professor, Alastor Moody. 

Where was he? Had the man decided not to take up the post after all? Harry would be lying if he said the thought did not appeal to him. Though he might be a bit biased given that the man had tried to send his father to Azkaban.

The seat remained vacant all throughout the sorting and the subsequent feast and even dessert. Above them, visible through the enchanted ceiling, the storm raged one. Battering the castle with rain and wind, flashes of lightning streaking across the sky at odd intervals bringing booming, rolling thunder in its wake.

A hush fell over the students as Dumbledore stood to give his usual start of term speech, although apparently it was _not_ to be quite so ordinary this time around.

“Welcome, students, to another exciting year. I do hope you all had a very nice holiday and are ready to return to the joy of learning.” He went on with the usual reminders of the Forbidden Forest being exactly what the name entailed and a warning from Filch about banned objects before, “It is my sad duty to inform you all that the Quidditch Cup will not be taking place this year--”

There was a tremendous sound of protest from all Houses at this announcement and Dumbledore had to resort to shooting a flash of brilliant sparks from his wand to regain their attentions.

“Yes, I understand how devastating this is to all of you,” Harry could practically see the twinkle in the old man’s eye from his seat, “however, I assure you that the sacrifice will be worth it. As it is also my great pleasure to announce that this year at Hogwarts--”

But again the Headmaster was cut off by a loud noise, this time of the door to the Great Hall slamming open against the force of the wind. Only, it had not been the wind at all, as a haggard man appeared in the entrance and began making his limping, dramatic way forward towards the teacher's table. He was missing a leg, Harry noticed, as its wooden replacement made a loud clunk with every other step. He had a long staff in one hand and was wearing a voluminous dark duster that nearly brushed the floor and held many different pockets. The man was heavily scarred, even more so than Remus and a chunk seemed to be missing right from the middle of his nose, as if something had taken a bite out of it. Oddest of all, though, were the eyes. One was normal, if dark and beady, but the other was large and protuberant, the iris a bright electric blue. It swiveled around the socket, up, down, around, even rolling into the back of the man’s head leaving an eerie blank whiteness in its place before spinning into view again to settle on its next target with hummingbird speed and impatience.

“That’s Mad-Eye Moody.” Draco breathed from next to Harry, all anger and indignation at the loss of Quidditch vanished to be replaced with a face gone pale and stony.

“He’s the new Defense Professor,” Harry whispered back, “dad told me. He’s not pleased about the appointment either.”

Draco snorted, “No, I suspect he wouldn’t be.”

Harry wondered if Moody had gone after Lucius Malfoy in the same way he’d done Severus, it seemed likely.

Moody had made it to the dais by that point and taken his seat, pulling a plate of sausages toward himself and carefully scrutinizing them before drawing a knife from one of his many pockets and spearing one. His normal eye he kept on his plate, but the blue one continued to whizz around the room, never resting more than a moment on any singular spot, although Harry noticed it found its way over to the Slytherin side of things more often than any other House.

“Ah, yes, let me introduce the newest member of our staff,” Dumbledore continued as if nothing out of the ordinary had just happened, “Professor Moody, who has agreed to take on the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts this year.”

There was a smattering of applause but most of the student just starred up at the haggard man. Moody did not seem to mind the lukewarm welcome, taking a flask from his pocket and swigging from it before continuing on his plate of sausages.

Before any whispers could start up in earnest, however, the Headmaster continued.

“As I was saying, it is my great pleasure to announce that Hogwarts will be hosting the Triwizard Tournament this year!”

That was enough to get everyone's attentions away from Moody and back onto Dumbledore in an instant.

“You’re joking!” Fred and George Weasley shouted from the Gryffindor table.

Dumbledore chuckled, “Indeed I am not, Mr. and Mr. Weasley. It has taken a great deal of time and effort to pull this together, but come October delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving. So I expect each and every one of you to put your best effort forward into welcoming our guests and showing support to whomever is selected champion for Hogwarts.”

If the Headmaster had expected to give any more of a speech he would be hard pressed to gain any attention from the excitedly babbling students. The man seemed to realise this and retook his seat without much fuss.

Harry had heard of the Tournament before, in a few books, but had never expected to see it come to Hogwarts.

“Didn’t they ban it in the first place because too many people died?” He asked the table a large.

“Yeah,” Theo answered, sipping at a mug of hot chocolate, it had left a smudge of foam on his upper lip, “it’s been centuries since the last one.”

“Well, good luck to whoever wants to participate in that insanity.” Harry huffed.

“What? You don’t want to endanger your life for the fourth year in a row?” Millicent teased lightly and Harry snorted.

“I’m good, thanks. You go right ahead though.”

A glance up at his father showed Severus with an even deeper frown as he looked over the sea of students. No wonder he’d been so stressed in the weeks running up to the start of term, if he knew this was coming on top of having to deal with Alastor Moody.

It was sure to be an interesting year, if nothing else.


	7. Chapter 7

The dorms were just as Harry remembered, with its familiar emerald drapes surrounding the comfortable four poster bed he’d slept in for the majority of the last three years. His trunk was safely laid out at the foot. It no longer held every single possession Harry had to his name, as he’d left bits and pieces back in his room at Spinner’s End. Spare clothes that no longer fit exactly right, novels he was not planning on re-reading just yet, one or two of Jax’s rocks that he didn’t want to bring along now that Millicent had enlarged his favorite, and some of the little trinkets and keepsakes he’d managed to collect over the years. It had been odd not packing every last scrap away. But Harry had relished the idea of it, of leaving a bit of himself behind in the home he had been given. To know they would be going back at the end of the school year. 

Pulling out his nightclothes Harry felt strangely adrift, as if he were missing something even though he knew he’d pack everything really important. It took a long moment of introspection as he made the short trip to the loo to realise he was _homesick_. He missed Spinner’s End with its creaking stairs and little back garden filled with neat rows of useful pants. And the quiet meals he would share with Severus. The Welcoming Feast had been as loud and boisterous as usual, made worse by the raging storm and series of unexpected announcements. It was a far cry from the calm of the last three months. Harry wondered if he’d be able to finagle any time with his father to brew as they had during the holidays. Severus would be busy with watching over Slytherin House and teaching lessons, not to mention dealing with whatever chaos the upcoming Tournament caused.

It was a selfish desire, to want to spend time with his father when all the other students did not have that same luxury and had to spend so long away from their own homes and families. Harry supposed it was lucky that Severus was so close at hand. If this was what Harry felt like just missing the physical _house_ after finally getting a taste of what real family was supposed to be... well Harry would just make sure not to squander any time he did manage to gain.

~~~~~~~>

The next morning all anybody seemed to be talking about was the upcoming Triwizard Tournament. Rumors were flying across all four House tables about who was going to enter and what the tasks might be. Harry was more interested in meeting the students from the other schools. It would be fascinating to compare the differences in their educations and methods. He wondered just how many magical schools were out there, carved into hidden niches all over the globe.

“My father almost sent me to Durmstrang,” Draco commented as he added exactly one measure of sugar to his morning tea, stirring it delicately and never even hinting at clacking against the rim with the motion, “but Mother wouldn’t allow it.”

“Really? And he backed down?” Harry quirked an eyebrow as he added cream to his own Earl Grey, splashing a drop or two over the side. Lucius Malfoy was not a man that tended to give way on much.

“Mother was _insistent_.” Draco smirked, now spreading a neat layer of blackcurrant jam over a scone. “It was one of the few times I have ever seen her raise her voice. I seem to remember her reminding Father that she had been born a _Black_ and that had set him right rather quickly. It was actually quite a startling experience.”

Harry could imagine. Narcissa Malfoy was already an intimidating figure, he would not wish to get on her bad side for any reason.

Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of the post owls. Thankfully the skies had cleared in the night so no one was showered with rainwater, only letter, papers, and the odd package for students who had forgotten essential items at home. Harry saw Neville had received one such bundle, but it was far smaller than the previous years which Harry was going to take as a good sign.

“Oh, Merlin.” Draco muttered as he scanned his issue of the _Daily Prophet_. “Skeeter is at it again, that harpy.”

Harry leaned over to see a photo of Mr. and Mrs. Weasley standing outside the Burrow. They looked happy enough in the picture, but a quick scan of the article showed it was Rita Skeeter reporting on an incident that had involved not only Mr. Weasley, but also their new Defense Professor and a pair of rabid dustbins. Skeeter seemed to be painting the entire thing as a bumbling, embarrassing scenario to further prove the Ministry’s incompetence. Although from what Harry could see, it looked like Mr. Weasley had managed to keep everything under control and prevent any muggles from getting hurt or too suspicious. Harry was really starting to dislike that woman’s tendency to sensationalise for the sake of drama.

Even if the Ministry as a whole _was_ a bit lacking, there were good people there as well.

“They didn’t even get his name right.” Harry grumbled, feeling defensive of the affable Arthur Weasley.

“Probably for the best, in this case.” Draco sneered at the article a moment longer before seeming to realise he was dangerously close to being offended on behalf of the _Wealseys_ and primly turned to the next page without further comment.

Jax stuck his head out of Harry’s bag and snatched a large bite of sausage from his plate just as Severus walked up to pass out their new schedules. He quirked an eyebrow at the serpent, receiving a bob of the head in return which was the equivalent to a snaky bow, although Jax was being more sassy than respectful with the motion. Harry booped him on the snout and Jax disappeared back into the satchel with a hissing laugh.

“I am relieved to see you managed to arrive at school with all of your limbs intact.” Severus murmured dryly as he handed down Harry’s slip of parchment.

“There were a few close calls, but Sirius managed to avoid the elephant in the end.”

His father snorted and Harry hid his pleased grin behind the new schedule. Ancient Runes first thing that morning, then Care of Magical Creatures. Not a terrible combination, though he knew it would get a bit trying later on in the year having Runes so early the first day of the week. It was better than History right off, however, so Harry was not about to complain.

They didn’t have Defense until Wednesday, which Harry also did not mind. He was not looking forward to interacting with Moody in any capacity.

“We’re still doing Occlumency lessons?” He asked, spotting the slots set aside and not quite managing to hide the pleased tone in his voice.

“Of course, one does not master a skill by neglecting it.”

“Yes, sir.” Harry folded up his schedule and tucked it away as his father continued on down the table, soothed by the news.

Ancient Runes was uneventful and spent filling out a long and exactingly thorough review of everything they had learned the previous year. Harry felt he did quite well given such short notice, better than Hermione Granger who looked to be trying to pull all her copious hair out at the roots by the time the bell rang. Although he did catch a glimpse of her parchment and had to reevaluate that assessment a bit. How had she managed to write so much in such a tiny script, anyway?

Down on the grounds Harry saw they were once more paired with the Gryffindors for Care of Magical Creatures. That was far less interesting to him then the presence of several large wooden crates laying open on the grass outside of Professor Hagrid’s hut. As they drew closer he could hear a lot of rattling punctuated but what sounded like the occasional muffled explosion. Hagrid was off to the side, holding tight to his dog’s collar as the boarhound seemed keen on investigating the crates himself.

“Mornin’ all! Got an exciting project planned fer this year.” Hagrid said with a wide grin as the last stragglers arrived, his great bushy beard practically trembling with delight as he gestured with his free hand at the rattling boxes. “Blast-Ended Skrewts!”

Harry leaned over curiously to look inside the nearest of the crates, seeing a writhing mass of pale squishy looking things that resembled shell-less lobsters. If lobsters had legs sticking out at odd places and stingers... and no heads.

“ _Eww_...” Pansy Parkinson and Lavender Brown said at the same time with impressively similar pitch and tone.

Not that they were wrong. The Skrewts were ugly, slimy looking, and smelled strongly of fish. There were around a hundred in each box and they were all climbing over one another blindly or else being propelled across the mass of bodies by tiny explosions from what Harry was forced to assume was their rear ends.

“Don’ be squeamish now!” Professor Hagrid chuckled, slapping the side of a crate, “Jus’ hatched today so you’ll be takin’ care o’ them as a project, like I said.”

Harry exchanged a dubious look with Millicent and Theo, he was not too sure about these Skrewts. How big were they meant to be? And where was Hagrid going to keep them all once they outgrew the crates?

“What are they for?” Draco asked, his lip curling up slightly as he peered down at the squirming, pale, mass.

“Erm,” Hagrid scratched at his beard, seeming thrown by the question, “that’s next lesson, fer now yer to feed ‘em. Now, I’ve never raised Skrewts before, so I got a few different selections lined up over here. Why don’t you divide up amongst yourselves and each take a crate an’ we’ll see which group does best at the end.”

Harry paired up with Draco, Millicent, Neville, and Theo to try and entice their assigned crate of baby Skrewts with various treats. Unfortunately they did not seem to want any shredded cabbage, or frog liver, or tiny beetle eggs. Nothing looked to be able to gain any sort of attention from the Skrewts, who just continues to crawl over each other and occasionally blast off a few inches.

“They don’t even have _mouths_.” Draco muttered, dangling a piece of dried mystery meat over a grouping, only to pull back with a sharp hiss as one of the things shoot off, scorching his hand. “Ouch!”

Hagrid hurried over at the cry, “Yer gotta watch out for when they blast, here.”

Draco’s pale hand with its angry red mark looked tiny in Hagrid’s grip as the man looked it over before pulling a wand from one of the many pockets of his moleskin coat, “ _Episky_. There, good as new.”

The wand looked equally small in Professor Hagrid’s hand but the spell he’d cast had been perfectly adequate, healing the burn even as Draco sent a venomous look at the crate.

“Careful of the stinger as well, mind. And some o’ them got suckers too, I’m thinking those are female, for sucking blood.”

Nobody looked enthused at this happy pronouncement but Hagrid did not seem to notice. Harry was definitely relieved when they were released to go back up to the castle for lunch.

“Mental, _absolutely mental._ ” Ron Weasley muttered weakly as they all trudged up the path. He’d been caught by one of the Skrewts as well, but it had set his robe sleeve aflame rather than burn his hand and Hermione Granger had put it out with a quick water spell.

“How big do you reckon they’ll get?” Neville asked, looking back over his shoulder nervously at the boxes still strewn over the lawn.

“Maybe we’ll get lucky and they’ll starve to death.” Theo suggested brightly.

“Oh yeah, maybe.” Ron agreed with a hopeful sort of smile.

~~~~~~~>

Harry had thought that nothing could pull the student’s attention away from the upcoming Tournament, but even by the end of that first day a new buzzing had started its way around the school. Apparently, Professor Moody was quite the teacher and had already garnered a deep well of respect from students that had attended his classes. Respect and wariness, depending on the House you talked to. Evidently, the man had little compunction about speaking bluntly and even less for censoring what he felt they might need to know about the real world and the inherent dangers found within.

Although, Harry noticed, everyone seemed to be mum on the actual subject matter of that first class. Harry was willing to bet it had not been anything close to pleasant.

When Wednesday finally rolled around, he and the other Slytherins made their way to the third floor classroom with varying degrees of trepidation and interest. Harry had meant to find a seat in the back of the room but found that many of his Housemates had had that same idea and he was forced to settle more towards the front with Blaise at his right and Draco to the left. Moody looked even more haggard and battleworn up close, his mane of gray hair like a stormcloud around his scarred face. That whizzing blue eye jumping from person to person as they all found seats.

Harry was so busy trying not to stare at the man that he very nearly jumped out of his skin as he was addressed in a sharp, barking tone, “Potter! Is that a _snake_ in your bag?”

Harry resisted the urge to nudge his satchel further under his desk and met Moody’s normal eye with as calm a demeanor as he could muster.

“Yes, sir.”

There was no point in lying, with the electric blue eye fixed directly on where Jax lay hidden.

“Hrumph, I’ll rephrase,” Moody grunted, hand tightening on his walking staff, “ _why_ is there a snake in your bag?”

“He’s my familiar, sir. I have permission from my Head of House.” A white lie, as his father had never explicitly stated that Harry could carry Jax around wherever he went, but one he knew Severus would back him on should Moody seek confirmation.

“Familiar, eh? Hmm, and I suppose that’s antivenom in your front right pocket?”

Harry felt his hand twitch toward said pocket and the vials it held, he did not like the implication that Moody’s mad eye could see through clothing.

“Yes, sir. Made from his own venom.”

The professor stared at him for a long moment, both eyes meeting Harry’s and he automatically began to Occlude on instinct. Although he did not feel the telltale brush of an invading mind Harry did not like the idea of leaving himself completely bare to the man.

“Very well. I will be following up your claim with Snape, been meaning to have a chat with that man in any case. The rest of you can put away those books, we won’t be using them this class.” Moody glared around the room, his blue eye once more zipping hither and thither.

Harry let out a slow breath, relieved to have the attention off of him. Blaise nudged a foot against his and Harry spared his friend a shallow nod. Draco on his other side was not looking particularly pleased either, but he’d looked put out since breakfast. Neither of them had been much looking forward to this class.

Moody clunked over to his desk and stood leaning on his staff and to survey all of them with a shrewd eye, a _singular_ one as the other was busy spying every which way. 

“Now, as I’ve been informed, you lot have had a rather slapdash series of teachers come through here. From what Professor Lupin has written me you are well versed on a number of Dark creatures which is good. But you are woefully behind on curses and counterspells. I have one year to whip you into shape so that when you do leave this school there is a slightly increased chance you may survive to adulthood. The world is a dangerous and unforgiving place that will not hesitate to chew you up and spit you out like so much gristle. So I am here as a special favor to Dumbledore to do something about your painfully spotty education in these matters. I will show you what happens to those caught unprepared. I will show you how to best protect yourselves. And I will set that rag on fire if you do not put it away this instant Miss Greengrass!”

The entire class turned to see Daphne flush a dark shade of red and drop the issue of _Witch Weekly_ she had been reading under her desk.

“Now, which of you can tell me what an Unforgivable Curse is?”

A number of hands went into the air, most of the class in fact. Harry had not raised his, not that he didn’t know the answer, but because he did not wish to be called upon to give it. He suspected Draco held similar reasons for keeping his arms folded across his chest as well.

“Yes, you lot would be well versed in such things already, wouldn’t you. You there, Parkinson isn’t it?”

“Yes, sir.” Pansy said primly, “An Unforgivable Curse is a label given by the Ministry to those spells that will get you sent to Azkaban for life if you are caught using one on another person.”

“Exactly. If you are _caught_ , a very important caveat to add and one I expect many of your parents are well aware of.” Moody grunted, his blue eye buzzing angrily around the gathered Slytherins as the class alternatively bristled or shrunk back from the scrutiny. “Because there are those out there who use these curses and were never caught. Which, I myself, find far more frightening a thought than the fraction chucked away to play with the dementors. Just one of many reasons to always practice constant vigilance!”

“Now, who can name one of these Unforgivables? There are three in total. Malfoy, how about you?” Moody demanded, a dark glint in his normal eye as he pointed a crooked finger at Draco.

“The Imperious Curse.” Draco replied smoothly, his face a cool mask as he attempted to hide the way he was so clearly unsettled.

Professor Moody smirked, it twisted his scared face horribly, “Correct. Your father had a bit of a run in with that one, didn’t he?”

Draco’s jaw was clenched so tightly a tick was visible as he jerked out a sharp nod.

Moody huffed out an amused breath before turning away from the blonde in obvious dismissal. He then reached under his desk and pulled a jar containing three skittering spiders and set it down with a thunk. Tracey Davis made a disgusted sound but everybody else just watched as Moody unscrewed the lid and drew a spider out, sticking it to the desktop with a spell.

“The Imperious Curse is about control. Complete, unflinching, _utter_ control.” He pointed his wand at the spider, “ _Imperio_.”

The spider scuttled across the desk in a figure eight pattern before climbing the jar and leaping off of it, doing a flip. It then rose up on its back legs and did a spinning sort of one-spider ballet dance.

Crabbe and Goyle clapped, laughing their grunting laughs, but they were the only ones. Harry felt sick watching the spider, thinking of all the terrible things he could be made to do with no choice in the matter.

“Think it’s funny?” Moody said as the spider finished its dance, “I could make it do another dance. Or perhaps build a web spelling out a poem. Or,” Moody’s voice went harsh, “I could make it tear off its own leg and _eat_ it.”

Crabbe and Goyle stopped laughing. The rest of the class, already shifting uneasily, seemed to be holding their breaths as one as the spider sat utterly still upon the desk.

“A person under the Imperius Curse had no control over their action, no will of their own. Families have been slaughtered by their own loved ones at the behest of someone else's wand. It _can_ be resisted, however, if you’ve a strong enough will. And I will be teaching you how in the coming weeks.”

“You’re going to cast _Unforgivables_ on us?!” Pansy Parkinson shreaked.

“Yes. I am.” Moody glared, “With permission, of course. Unless you’d rather remain vulnerable to the whims of those stronger and fouler than yourself, Miss Parkinson.”

Pansy hunched down in her seat, not looking reassured in the least. Harry could not say he felt any different.

Thankfully Moody did not make the spider eat itself, merely banished it into the ether. Which was probably a kinder fate than being made into another experiment.

“Who can name the second Curse?”

After a long moment of nobody moving, Theo raised a hand.

“Nott. Go head.”

“The Cruciatus.”

“Correct again. Pain. Unavoidable and unending.” He summoned another spider from the jar, “Needs to be a bit bigger for you to get the whole picture. _Engorgio_.”

The spider swelled in size until it was larger than a tarantula, nobody made a sound this time.

“Watch.” Moody pointed his wand and muttered, “ _Crucio_.”

The enlarged spider collapsed on the desk, its spindly legs curling up in twitchy desperation as it rocked back and forth in obvious and extreme pain. Harry felt his own skin prickle and his heart start to pound rapidly as it went on and on for endless seconds. His breath was coming far too rapidly and he was thankful to everything that ever was that spiders lacked the capacity to _scream_. Blaise’s hand found his under the desk and he squeezed it with far too much force but his friend only held on and pressed back and Harry managed to begin Occluding again enough to bring his burgeoning panic under control.

“Stop it.” Daphne Greengrass demanded, sounding close to tears herself, “Stop being _cruel_.”

Moody ceased the spell but the spider kept twitching.

“Pain. Torture. Beyond anything you could possibly imagine. You do not want to be hit by this spell. Your opponent will not be concerned with being cruel or fair or reasonable. They will want to _hurt_ you. Another reason to practice constant, never ending, _vigilance_.”

The second spider was vanished as well and Harry could only be glad of it.

“The final Curse.” Both of Moody’s eyes settled on Harry, though a second later the blue trailed down and he knew the man could see where he was still clinging to Blaise. He did not let go. “Potter. I am sure you know it.”

“The Killing Curse.” Harry managed to rasp out, his voice dulled even to his own ears with how hard he was Occluding.

“Precisely.”

The last spider resisted capture as if it knew what was coming, but Moody would not be deterred, snatching it out of the jar and affixing it to the desk in clear sight of every student in the room.

“ _Avada Kedavra._ ” Green light suffused the spider and it fell over. Dead.

No twitching, no fuss, just green light and the empty husk left in its wake.

“There is no blocking the Killing Curse. No counter, no shield, no hope. The only mercy is that the spell is painless and fast. You have to really mean it for the Killing Curse to take effect, to really truly want your victim dead on the ground or else it will not work. Which is the only defense you can try and hope for if physical cover is unavailable. I wouldn’t put much faith in that though. If your enemy is willing to throw around the Killing Curse, you can bet your grandmother’s pearls they mean it.”

Harry was barely listening, he couldn’t take his eyes off the spider. That green light shining behind his eyelids picking away at the Occlumency shields he had worked so hard to strengthen. Was that how his parents had gone, without even a whisper? No. No, Harry remembered the screams the dementors pulled out of his memories. His mother had died screaming. Harry wondered vaguely if he searched far enough back in his mind’s library if he could find that memory in full, if he could see it...

A squeeze from Blaise brought him back to the present and Harry shook the errant thoughts away. He did not want to go looking. He did not want to know. That particular book was staying under lock and key forever.

“Only one person, that we know of at least, has survived an encounter with the Killing Curse.”

The entire class had turned to look at him now and Moody nodded his grizzled head.

“Yes, Mr. Potter. Why he managed what eons worth of magical peoples have not is a mystery. Unless, of course, he wishes to share his technique with the rest of us.”

Love. If Dumbledore was to be believed. Harry was taking that with an entire sack of salt, but he had felt the burns as his mother’s protection blackened and caved in Quirrell's face. Still, it had not been his doing and was not a thing he thought could be easily replicated.

“I don’t know. I was a baby.”

Moody’s beady eye bore into his, but still there was no brush of Legilimency, just intense focus.

“I thought as much.” The man grunted and turned from him as cooly dismissive as he’d been of Draco earlier. Harry did not mind in the least.

The rest of class was spent taking notes on all three Unforgivables as Moody lectured them with blunt, uncompromising words. When the bell rang, Harry was finally glad of his seat as it gave him an advantage in escaping the room first. Draco and Blaise were hot on his heels with Millicent bring up the rear. He didn’t stop until he’d reached a well deserted corridor and was able to lean back against the wall and just _breathe_.

“What is Dumbledore thinking, allowing a madman like that to teach here?” Draco seethed, “I always knew the old codger was cracked, but this is blatant insanity.”

“Harry, are you alright?” Blaise’s voice was deeper than Draco’s, the words softer as he pressed in close to his side, shielding Harry from the view of any stray students that might try and wander past with his much taller frame.

“Fine.” Harry ground out, squeezing his eyes shut and taking deep, measured breaths as his father had taught him. “I just need a moment.”

“He shouldn’t be showing those things to us.” Millicent leaned against the wall on his other side and Draco continued to pace agitatedly in front of them. “Do you think he did it for all the classes? Or just Slytherin? It’s obvious he thinks we’re all evil in the making.”

“All of them, I think.” Harry said, opening his eyes to see Draco had gone from an angry pink to ghastly pale as he finally stopped pacing and clutched at the strap of his own bag with white-knuckled fists. “But I don’t think the others will truly understand, not really. Not unless they already have experience with all this terrible shit.”

Harry so very rarely swore that it took even him by surprise when the words came tumbling out, but he didn’t have time to dwell on it as Draco looked suddenly stricken.

“The Gryffindors, they had this class earlier today, didn’t they?”

“Right before us, I think.” Blaise answered, sending Draco a questioning look.

“I um, I need to go. I’ll meet you guys later.”

“We have History in a couple minutes.” Millicent pointed out, not really trying to stop the blonde who was already halfway down the corridor, Draco just waved a dismissive hand and disappeared around the corner.

“That was odd.” Blaise murmured, but Harry shrugged.

“Let’s get to History, Binns won’t notice he’s gone, but he might if a third of us don’t show up.”

Also, the soporific drone of the ghostly professor was just the sort of calm monotony that Harry needed right then.

If this was only the first lesson, he was dreading what the rest of the year held in store.


	8. Chapter 8

When the charms set into his office door informed him of a presence on the other side, Severus was not in the least surprised to find Alastor Moody darkening his doorstep. 

Resigned? Perhaps.

Irked? Most definitely.

But _surprised_? No, not at all.

The series of heavy thunks against the wood of his office door was unnecessary, and Severus suspected, done with the express intent to irritate him. That magical eye of Moody's was more than capable of seeing through the oaken barrier and the man knew that _Severus_ knew he was there. He could have put wards up that would hinder that blasted eye but Severus had decided on an implied show of innocence. He had nothing to hide from the ex-Auror. Not in his office at least. It would only cause further unwanted attentions if he were to obfuscate against expected intrusions to the extremes it would take to keep the space free from meddlesome prosthetics.

Resisting the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose, Severus carefully set aside his quill and rose to answer the door before the man put any more dents into it.

“Ah, Snape, need a word with you.” Moody's gruff voice greeted him, that electric blue monstrosity zipping up, down, and around as the man fixed his natural eye on Severus with narrow scrutiny.

“I am busy at the moment, perhaps another time.”

“Marking second year summer work can wait, it’s about the Potter boy. You _are_ his Head of House, are you not?”

Severus sneered, just slightly, before regaining control and allowing Moody reluctant entrance into the office. If only to keep the conversation private.

He did not offer the man a seat nor tea, not feeling the need for empty platitudes that would simply elongate this unwanted meeting. The heavy clunk of Moody's wooden leg punctuating his steps as the man circled the office with clear investigative purpose, eyeing the many jars lining the walls and not speaking as to clarify his purpose for coming.

Another shallow attempt to irritate him.

Severus refused to let it.

Moody could be as petty as he wished, Severus would not bow before idle threats. Implied or otherwise.

“Has Mr. Potter caused trouble in your class?” Snape, the boy's name was _Snape_ now. 

Not that Severus would reveal such just to try and get a rise out of Moody. The thought still had the smug hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his thinned mouth.

“No. Not _yet_.” Moody grunted.

“Then why, pray tell, are you skulking about my office? I do not appreciate being interrupted needlessly from my work.”

“It’s been near a century since a Potter's been sorted Slytherin. Odd, that.” Moody tapped a gnarled finger against a jar of pickled dragon spleen. “Makes one wonder what might have brought something like that about.”

“The boy has ambitions, it is not unheard of.” Severus answered vaguely, working hard at keeping the bite out of his voice. “I ask again, _why_ have you come here?”

“You've been given guardianship over Potter, correct?” Moody did not wait for an answer and Severus did not ask how the man knew that, Alastor Moody was always prying where he ought not. “I find that _very_ interesting.”

“Do you?” Severus drawled, looking down his nose at the man and taking no small pleasure in their height difference.

“Oh, aye.” He grunted, tapping his staff against the flagstones for emphasis even as he continued to peer around at everything that was not Severus himself. “That they would give guardianship over a child, _that_ child in particular, to a wizard of your... background. I find that very peculiar indeed. Makes one wonder how you managed it.”

“To what background are you refiring? The fifteen years of teaching all manner of children? Most of which I have spent as Head of Slytherin House. The previous cases in which I have been set such responsibilities before? It seems a fairly logical choice that he be placed in my care.”

“ _Hrumph_. You know precisely which history I mean.” The blue eye ceased its mad whirring a moment to fixate on Severus’ left arm where his robe sleeve covered the evidence of all his worst mistakes.

Moody laughed, a low and dry grunt of a thing as Severus glowered.

“Get to the point of this visit, Moody.” Severus seethed, it was taking all of his considerable efforts not to fling the man from his office. “If there even is one aside from trying my patience.”

“The snake Potter carries around with him.”

Ah. So that was the flimsy excuse the man had come up with for just cause to invade his space.

“Mr. Potter has special dispensation to do so, as I am sure he informed you. If that is all? You have wasted too much of my precious little free time already.”

“Hmm. So he did, indeed.” Moody clunked his way back across the room slowly, “Can’t blame an old ex-Auror for following up on information.”

Severus remained silent and Moody chuckled darkly again as he showed himself out.

“Oh, and Snape?” The man shot over his shoulder, tapping the side of his grizzled head, “I’ve got my eye on you.”

Moody cackled gruffly as he let the door swing shut and still Severus did not move. He would not put it past Moody to still be spying on him after such an infuriating statement and he would not give the man the satisfaction.

This was going to be a long year. Long and tedious. But Severus had weathered worse than a few implied threats and accusations.

The man could think what he wished, Severus knew where his loyalties lay and he did not need to prove as much to the likes of Mad-Eye Moody.

~~~~~~~>

The majority of the student body seemed utterly enthralled with their new Defense Professor Harry noticed with a sort of bemusement bordering on exasperation. Sure, it was clear that Moody knew what he was talking about and had plenty of real life experience with much of the Dark Arts and what one must do to defend against them. But the man also seemed to lack any sort of tact or sympathy whilst teaching about them.

Or perhaps that was simply Harry only seeing him interact with Slytherins, maybe it was different for the other Houses.

Although Neville seemed equally disenchanted with the entire thing. He hadn’t been at dinner that night, after their first round of classes with Moody. Harry had only noticed the absence when the space beside him that usually held Draco was also vacant. It had clicked then that the blonde had obviously gone in search of the Gryffindor. Harry had felt a frisson of guilt that he had not thought to do so as well, but he had been dealing with his own demons already. And whatever had happened to Neville and his parents was not something Harry was entirely privy to. That it involved Bellatrix Lestrange implied that _Draco_ knew, as she was his aunt. Perhaps it was best that Draco had gone after Neville himself then, Harry wouldn’t have had the least idea of how to handle such a situation.

He was relieved, however, to see both boys back at the long House tables come breakfast the next morning.

Moody though, Moody was a mystery. Harry could hear the whispers of hero-worship building amongst the students. The Gryffindors especially, with the notable exception of Neville. Along with the birthing of many a newfound aspiration toward Aurorship.

That would never be a job Harry would ever think of pursuing. He had to deal with enough terrible things already, he did not want to add other peoples terrors into the mix. At least, not strangers that he held no attachments to. Harry would gladly leave such things to the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs.

At least he had his other classes to occupy his time with. And in Care of Magical Creatures, a class they shared with Gryffindor House, there was hardly any time to gossip about anything as the Skrewts seemed to be growing at an exponential rate. Which was more bemusing than anything to Harry, as no one had yet found a viable food source for things.

Still, they grew. Their slimy, pale bodies lengthening and the blasts setting more than one set of robes aflame as they all tried to do their best to figure out just what in Merlin’s name they were _supposed_ to be doing. Professor Hagrid seemed delighted at their progress in any case, handing out various foodstuffs and different liquids for them to test out. Fang, Hagrid’s boarhound, had evidently learned his lesson early on and was staying well clear of the crates and their clicking, smelly, slightly combustive contents.

There were multiple buckets of water set by the boxes, for emergencies. And Harry found himself thinking hard about learning better clothes repairing charms so that he would not need to replace his robes at a frequency that seemed about to verge on the extreme. Or he could get Millicent to do it for him, as she was much better at Charms than he was.

Jax had taken one tentative whiff of the Skrewts and had hissed a string of expletives so long that Harry was honestly impressed, before burrowing deep into the recesses of Harry’s satchel.

Blaise just smirked his smuggest smirk when Harry bemoaned the class to him on their way to Arithmancy.

“You should have had more care in choosing your electives.”

“But I _like_ learning about magical creatures.” Harry protested, “I just wish Hagrid had picked something less...” Harry floundered a bit looking for the most fitting descriptor.

“Horrid? Smelly? Utterly vile?” Draco supplied, Harry pointed at him and nodded.

“Yes, exactly.”

Blaise continued to smirk and Harry rolled his eyes.

In the coming weeks, Harry fell into the rhythm of schoolwork and classes easily. He would spend his afternoons and evenings with his study group or in Occlumency lessons with his father. Or else sometimes dragged into a game of pick-up Quidditch on the weekends. As there was no Cup this year, it gave a lot of students more free use of the pitch. Harry found himself drifting from Chaser to Seeker to Keeper depending on who else was dragged into the fray. He wasn’t much for Beater but liked Chaser and Seeker well enough. There was a bit of an underground competition going but Harry wasn’t paying too much attention to it as he just liked to play.

Jax still refused to go up on the broom with him but Blaise was usually around to take care of the serpent as the other boy did not seem to care much for flying around either, even if he did come down to watch more often than not.

It was nearing October when Professor Moody made good on his threat of the Imperious Curse.

Harry would say he was surprised that Dumbledore would allow Unforgivables to be practiced on minors under his purview, but Harry tried not to lie to himself too much.

“Being able to resist the Imperius Curse could very well save your life one day.” Moody announced as they all settled into their seats, Harry had yet to be able to move further back than halfway into the classroom as most of his classmates also seemed eager to be as far away from Moody as possible. “Yours. Your friends. Your family. Random people on the street.”

Moody thumped his staff against the floor to punctuate each statement.

“Those under Imperius have _no_ control over their actions. If compelled to eat the family crup, they would do so gladly and without question. You need to be prepared against such bewitchments. The first step, of course, is to practice _constant vigilance_.” He glared around the room with his good eye, the other staring out the back of his head at the blackboard and probably through the stone wall as well, leaving the visible part of his eye eerie white and blank before the electric blue swung back into view.

“Without constant vigilance, you leave yourself open to any number of attacks. To being taken over, maimed, killed. Or getting your loved ones the same treatment.”

That seemed to be the man’s main mantra Harry had come to realise over the past weeks. Constant vigilance. That you should expect an attack from all corners, at all times. It was not a thing that Harry found he had much of a leg to stand on to dispute. He remembered his first year and how much of it was spent in a state of persistent paranoia. And second year where students were dropping left and right. Third year when he had believed an escaped madman to be after him.

Harry knew all about constant vigilance.

“You. Goyle. Get down here, you’ll be our first volunteer.” Moody demanded and Harry was not quite sure the man understood what _volunteer_ meant.

Goyle did not seem to mind in any case, lumbering down to the front of the class readily enough.

“I want you to concentrate on breaking free of the Curse. Focus hard.”

Goyle grunted, Harry did not hold out much hope for him.

“ _Imperio._ ”

After a series of frankly impressive cartwheels, Moody released Goyle from the spell.

“Terrible. I said _concentrate._ Again.”

Goyle, who looked queasy from the number of tumbles he’d just done, bared his teeth in a growl that had frightened many a first year but did nothing against the seasoned Auror. Merely gaining a sharp rap of staff against flagstone.

“Yes. Use that anger. Push against the spell. _Imperio_.”

Goyle did more cartwheels.

Moody sent him back to his seat after that and called down Tracy Davis who did a fair rendition of a Cossack dance. Parkinson was made to jump across the tabletops and Theo to walk on his hands. Crabbe did no better than Goyle, spinning elegant pirouettes on his flat feet.

“Malfoy, you next.”

Draco clenched his jaw and stepped down to the smirking Moody.

“Let’s see if you’re made of stronger stuff than your daddy, hmm?”

Harry glared, clenching his hands into fists so hard he would not be surprised if he broke skin. Draco only stiffened slightly, his spine ramrod straight and face going haughty and aloof. Moody barked out a laugh and raised his wand.

“ _Imperio._ ” 

For a moment, it looked as if Draco were about to resist, to throw off the spell completely. But then Moody’s eye narrowed and the blonde made a jerking sort of half step to the side that had him knocking into the desk and spilling parchment all over the floor. Draco was then made to pick it up, but it was obvious how reluctant the movements were and Moody stopped the exercise after only three pieces.

“Good. Very good, Malfoy. Did you see that class? Malfoy resisted! It is possible. Given time and practice, I’m positive he will be able to fight back effectively.”

Draco did not seem pleased at all by the praise. He had gone pale and there was a tremble in his hands that Harry could see even from his seat halfway back into the classroom. The blonde was glaring openly at Moody, who either did not notice (unlikely) or did not care.

“Take a seat, Malfoy, Zabini you’re up.”

Blaise was not nearly as successful as Draco had been and was made to sing a Celestina Warbeck ballad, which no matter how nice Blaise’s voice was (quite, to be perfectly honest) seemed like an unnecessary cruelty to subject them all to.

“Potter.”

Harry took a deep breath before rising from his seat. He had been Occluding for the past few minutes, building up his mental walls in preparation. He did not want Moody to have any sort of control over him, however farcical the task he was set to might be. The mere thought of it made his skin crawl and scalp prickle with unease.

“Ready, boy?”

Oh how Harry hated that epithet, it brought up the worst of his memories of the Dursleys. Or it would have had he not been Occluding hard enough to shove even the vilest of thoughts down, deep and unreachable by outside means.

When Moody murmured the spell it didn’t feel like anything at first. Then it was as if an oily substance was trying to weasel its way through the vast void of empty whiteness that was his Occlumency shields. Seeping and pooling and searching out any cracks like a malevolent oil slick. But there were no fissures to be found, no vulnerabilities, nothing but a big, empty, nothingness.

Harry smirked at Moody, sticking his hands in his pockets and rocking back on his heels, the picture of nonchalance.

“Is that it? Are you sure you cast it well enough, Professor?”

He didn’t know where the sass was coming from, it wasn’t like him at all to talk back to a teacher. But Moody had been nothing but rough and callous towards Harry and his friends, not to mention his father, since he’d arrived at the school. Occluding must have lowered his inhibitions toward holding his tongue and Harry found he did not care so much right then. He would probably pay for it later, but the snickers rising up from his classmates was more than worth it in that moment.

Moody laughed, banging his staff against the floor.

“Cheeky, Potter.” He then narrowed both eyes at him consideringly. “Occlumency? That’ll be Snape’s influence, then.”

Harry neither confirmed nor denied, but Moody nodded as if he had proved some unknown point.

“Yes, yes. A very good technique for fighting off the Imperious. Although one needs to be implementing it before being Cursed more often than not.”

“Constant vigilance?” Harry cut in with a quirked eyebrow, earning another gruff laugh.

Harry did not care for amusing the man, although he supposed it was better than angering him.

“Exactly. Ten points to Slytherin, Potter.” Moody’s haggard face grew grim once more, “Now if you’ll drop the shields, I’d like to see how you do on even footing with the rest of the class.”

Harry scowled.

“But out in the real world, there is no even footing.” He tried.

“True enough. So you should be aware of the full effect this Curse can have upon you when you are not so stridently prepared.”

Reluctantly, Harry lowered his walls. Moody had a point, even he could see that.

When the spell was cast this time, Harry definitely felt the difference. Where before it had been oily and unpleasant, now Harry felt as if he were drifting through clouds without a care in the world. Which in itself was enough to bring about some clarity. Never in his life had he ever felt so unburdened and to do so now was wrong. Slanting everything sideways enough that when Moody whispered in his mind to tapdance across the flagstones, Harry only made it two steps before managing to trip himself and fall to the floor, knocking himself free of the compulsion and no doubt bruising his knees at the same time.

“Another success, very good.” Moody grunted and Harry took it as permission to flee back to his seat, his Occlumency shields back in full force out of sheer desperation to not have to ever feel that way again.

Draco gave him a stiff nod that Harry returned.

The rest of their classmates did not fare so well. Nobody else was able to resist even a little, but Moody informed them that was true for many of his classes. The Ravenclaws seemed to have a better time of things in general, ever analytical as they seemed to be in that House. Although the rest did have an exception or two in every class. No names were dropped, but Harry had his money on Hermione putting up a good fight.

No one except Harry had been able to resist fully.

Moody sent them off with homework about the dangers posed by those under the Imperius Curse and how to tell if someone was in its influence. Harry was just relieved to leave the classroom, as were the rest of them judging by the mad dash for the door as soon as they were dismissed.

“Hey, Harry?” Draco lightly touched his elbow as they made their way up to History.

“Yeah?”

“Do you think you could teach me some Occlumency?” The request was made in a low, pleading tone so different from Draco’s usual petulance when he wanted something that Harry found himself nodding before the words had fully registered.

“I have some books you can read through,” he tried to clarify, suddenly a bit panicky at the thought of teaching something so important. “But why not just ask Severus to teach you? I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.”

Draco bit his lip even as Harry dreaded that with equal force, he liked the time he got to spend with his father alone. If Draco were there it would not feel nearly as special. It was a selfish, petty thought. But still, Harry felt it nipping at the back his mind.

“Maybe after I get the basics down, you can show me that, right?”

“Alright.” Harry agreed, if somewhat reluctantly it was only because he did not want to mess things up. “I’ll get you the books after classes.”

“Thank you.” Draco gave his elbow a light squeeze and Harry managed a small smile.

He wondered why Draco did not want to go to Severus directly. He was the blonde’s godfather, after all. But maybe that was part of it. Draco probably did not want to seem weak in front of the man. If he knew a bit of Mind Magic before asking, it might be easier or at least less embarrassing for him. Either way, it looked like Harry was back in the tutoring game.

At least there was a far lower chance of melting cauldrons this time around.


	9. Chapter 9

In the second week of October Dumbledore announced that the two school delegations would be arriving on the day before Halloween. This news was met with a flurry of hushed whispers and wild gossip across all four Hogwarts Houses. It led to renewed rumors over who was going to enter and who had the best chance for winning the big prize.

“A _thousand_ galleons,” Ron Weasley sighed dreamily, “and no end of term tests!”

Hermione Granger huffed derisively enough to almost be Slytherin and buried her face behind a book so large that only the top of her frizzy hair was visible. Harry would bet the girl would forgo that particular perk on principal. Or he would if Harry thought he might find another person in the entire school willing to bet against it. They were very long odds.

“Who cares about the _money_ , Weasley.” Draco sniffed, delicately dipping an eagle feather quill into a pot of ink, “Think of the _prestige_ one would get, holding the title of Triwizard Champion. Something no other person has laid claim to in _centuries_. Even simply being picked to represent without winning the tournament outright would do wonders for future job prospects.”

“Are you going to enter, then?” Neville asked, fumbling his own ink pot but managing to avoid any spillage over the various books and parchments strewn across the round library table they had all gathered at after lessons.

“Obviously.” Draco drawled, “It shall put quite the feather in my cap.”

Blaise and Theo snickered quietly, the former murmuring something about peacocks having quite enough feathers already. Which led to more snickers and Madam Pince hushing them harshly as she strode by with a stack of tomes floating before her. Harry hid his own smirk behind _The Standard Book of Spells: Grade Four_ as Draco pointedly ignored his Housemates.

Justin Finch-Fletchley showed up a few moments later, squeezing into the spot between Millicent and Ron.

“Hey guys,” he smiled brightly, “you excited about this Triwizard lark? I’ve been reading up on it and it sounds wicked insane. Did you know that one year the Beauxbaton contestant was named Champion even though he was in last place because the other two _died_?”

This was said with an air of fascinated horror as the Hufflepuff continued to pull study supplies from his bag whilst never dropping his happy smile.

“In the very last Tournament,” Hermione spoke up from behind her giant book, “a cockatrice got loose and injured all three Headmasters. It says so in _Hogwarts: A History_. No wonder they stopped it, the whole thing is barbaric.”

She did not sound nearly as enthused about the upcoming games as Justin did.

“A bit, yeah,” he agreed easily enough, “but that’s what makes it fun.”

Hermione huffed again and Justin proceeded to compare horoscopes with Ron and Millicent to see who had come up with the most grisly month.

Madam Pince passed by again, eyeing them all waspishly, so Tournament talk was best set aside for actual schoolwork.

Another consequence of the impending visitors was that the castle seemed to be undergoing a very thorough cleaning. All the corridors swept and mopped, the suits of armor polished to gleaming, even the weird moss growing in disused corners of the dungeons got a good scrub. Filch and Mrs. Norris could be seen prowling about, ready to pounce upon hapless students unwittingly trailing in autumn leaves and dirt. All the teachers (save Binns, whom Harry believed was not even aware of the upcoming games) started giving them pointed lectures on propriety and how they should comport themselves among the guests.

McGonagall and Snape being by far the most intimidating of the talks. Harry would not want to be on the receiving end of any punishment doled out by either of them due to embarrassing the school in some fashion. 

Occlumency tutoring with Draco was progressing a lot smoother than Harry had feared, even if the blonde was frustrated at the apparent slow pace of things. They had to start from the very beginning and Harry had thought he might have a little time while Draco read through the stack of books he presented the other boy with. But evidently that was not to be the case as Draco fairly flew through them with a frightening amount of determination. So they began with clearing their minds as Harry had started so long ago that first summer at Spinner’s End.

“Don’t worry if you don’t get it right away.” Harry warned Draco as they sat across from one another on the boy’s bed with the curtains drawn to limit distractions. “It took me most of a summer, practicing every day to be able to do it consistently.”

“Why did you start learning?” Draco asked curiously, his hands folded loosely across his lap.

Harry bit back a sigh and scratched Jax under the chin so he could have the excuse not to look the other boy in the eye. As distractions went it was a feeble one. Jax, coiled snuggly atop one of Draco’s pillows, had the grace not to call him on it at least. Although that could have just been a clever ploy for more scritches.

“I don’t know if you remember, but back in first year I had a lot of nightmares. The Occlumency helps keep them under control.”

Draco’s pale face grew pensive and he looked at Harry with grey eyes that were far too piercing for comfort.

“Uncle Severus offered to help you then?”

“Yeah, I mean, he’d been giving me Dreamless Sleep all year. But that’s not really a potion you should heavily rely on. And I suppose he did not appreciate being woken up at all hours because I couldn’t control my own mind.” Harry tried to quip, but it fell flat.

Draco went a bit pinched the way he did when unsure how to offer comfort, one hand making a motion as if to reach out for Harry. Harry waved him off though, managing a thin smile.

“It’s fine, I’m better now. Mostly. And we should really get started if you want to get anything done before dinner.”

Draco looked as if he wanted to protest but thankfully decided against further enquiries at the moment. They spent the next better part of an hour working towards clear minds as Harry explained the finer points of why they needed to do this step first and foremost. One could not protect one’s own head if they could not bring it under control.

Although it was evident the longer they went without obvious results, the more frustrated Draco became. Harry called a halt after the blonde let out his third angry huff in the last two minutes.

“You’re doing well.” Harry tried to encourage him as Draco stood up from the bed and stretched, face a mask of pent up frustration at not being instantly brilliant at something. “It just takes time.”

Draco pursed his lips, the picture of petulance and Harry very nearly smiled fondly.

“How am I meant to clear my mind if I’m concentrating on banishing all the thoughts whirling around? I can’t very well get rid of them without _thinking_.”

Harry mused a moment before answering, “It not so much banishing them as acknowledging their unimportance and allowing everything to fade into the background. Next time we can try a few different methods, listening to music helped me, or maybe staring at something soothing.”

Draco was back to looking determined and he nodded decisively, “Tomorrow then.”

“How about before breakfast, that’s when Severus would have us practise.”

“Very well, it’s not as if I have Quidditch practice to worry about anymore.” If the blonde sounded a bit bitter that was better than pent up frustration.

So they met most mornings for an hour before breakfast and Draco slowly began to gain traction in clearing his mind. They found that music was too distracting for him, but fiddling with something seemed to do the trick. So Harry lent Draco his muggle Rubik's Cube and, after explaining how it worked and pushing through the boy’s utter bewilderment at the device and muggle inventions in general, they started making some real progress. So that by the time October was coming to an end Draco had managed to clear his mind after only a few solid minutes of effort and stay that way for much of their allotted time.

The next challenge would be doing so while also staying more aware of surroundings and slowly phasing out the toy from the processes entirely. Which Harry would be grateful for when it did happen, as Draco had yet to be able to solve the thing once and that seemed to irk him a great deal more than any failings on Mind Magic he might being feeling.

On the night the other schools were set to arrive the student body of Hogwarts seemed to be of two minds. One was far too excited and chatty, filling up any silences with even more wild speculations and endless twitterings. The girls especially seemed excited about the prospect of new people to giggle over, although quite a few of the boys seemed to share enthusiasm as well.

The other half were trying to play things off as off they weren’t just as excited, or else spending far too long getting dressed so as to look presentable for their guests. Harry, under duress from both Blaise and Draco, had tried to comb his hair but predictably failed spectacularly in the endeavor. He didn’t even see the point in the effort as they were all to be wearing their full uniforms to greet their guests, which included the black pointed hats that nobody past the newest of first years ever really wore. Blaise had been very put out when it had been announced that they were not to deviate in the slightest from their assigned attire. His subtle rebellion to such being a pair of elegant diamond earrings with a matching cloak pin, as there were no set rules for those items.

Harry allowed Blaise to pick out a pair for him as well, just to soothe the boy’s ruffled feathers a bit. Harry ended up with his amethyst studs and one of the many fancy cloak pins that Draco had gifted him over the years. At least he had occasion to use one, as he had far more than he knew what to reasonably do with.

After a final stern word from his father, all the Slytherins were matched out to the front lawn to join the rest of the Houses as they waited. Everyone looked equal parts excited and cold and Harry was glad for their cloaks as the minutes ticked by with no sign of either delegation. After the first twenty minutes, the excitement started to wane and the students started shifting restlessly. Harry shivered under his cloak and hoped Jax wasn’t feeling too cold. Then he remembered he was a wizard and touched a familiar warming spell to his uniform and settled in to wait far more comfortably.

“When do you think they’ll get here?” Theo whispered, almost too soft for Harry to hear.

“D’know,” Harry shrugged, scanning as far down the curved lane as the night and torches would allow, “ _how_ do think they’re getting here? The carriages?”

“Maybe.”

But before either of them could speculate further a Gryffindor boy shouted out, “Look! Up there! It’s _massive!_ ”

All eye turned towards the sky as more people started shouting.

“It’s a dragon!”

“No, it’s a giant house!”

“What’re those things pulling it? More dragons?”

“There aren’t any dragons!”

To Harry, the large blob approaching them at speed through the night sky looked more like a flying blue gourd than anything. It was massive though, seeming to grow ever bigger the closer it got to the grounds. Pulling it were giant winged beasts that Harry at first mistook for thestrals, but it soon became apparent they were not the skeletal, reptilian animals that pulled the Hogwarts carriages. But something more akin to pegasi, if far bulkier and palomino colored instead of pure white.

It also became quite apparent that giant blue gourd was not in fact an engorgio’d squash, but an unfortunately shaped carriage that seemed to be coming in for far too steep and fast a landing.

“Shouldn’t they be slowing down now?” Harry murmured back at Blaise.

Blaise only hmm’d noncommittally, but he brushed a hand against Harry’s side as if he were soothing a skittish animal. Which was enough to get him more indignant than worried they were all about to die horribly in a runaway flying carriage accident.

When it did finally land it was with a ground shaking thud, the horses even larger than they had seemed on approach, with hooves the size of dinner plates and wild looking eyes. None of them had time to really react to them, however, because no sooner did the carriage land then the door was thrown open and the largest woman Harry had ever laid eyes on stepped onto the lawn. She would have put even Aunt Marge to shame, both taller and wider, but somehow far more statuesque in baring where Marge had been more of a round blob of a woman. She had olive toned skin and was dressed heavily in black satin and opals.

“My darling Madame Maxime,” Dumbledore greeted with a bright smile, that predictable twinkle set to full behind his half-moon spectacles, “welcome to Hogwarts! It has been far too long. I do hope the journey was not too arduous.”

“Dumbly-dorr!” Madame Maxime cried in a thick French accent, striding forward on her massive legs to press a kiss either side of the Headmaster’s face, “I ‘ope I find you well. Ze journey was fine of course. My ‘orses do their job magnificently.”

As they continued to speak Harry noticed a cadre of older looking boys and girls stepping down delicately from the carriage. They were dressed lightly in the same powder blue as their transport, although a few had thin scarves wrapped tightly about their faces. Why hadn’t they dressed for the weather? They had to have known what Scotland in October was like.

After assuring Madame Maxime that Professor Hagrid would take good care of her horses when he arrived, Dumbledore offered for them all to warm up in the castle while they waited for the Durmstrang delegation to arrive. As they walked past the neat rows of Hogwarts students, the Beauxbaton candidates to a one had their noses in the air and disgruntled looks about them. Harry thought it seemed a bit like an entire fleet of Draco Malfoys were flooding into the school and had to hold back a rash of inappropriate snickers.

It was another half an hour of twiddling their thumbs and trying to have sneaky conversations under Professor Snape’s watchful gaze before there was a stirring at the center of the Black Lake. The dark water churned and frothed, bubbling like the world’s largest cauldron before suddenly spewing forth a giant, black, masted ship. It looked skeletal and half gutted, as if drug from the bottom of the sea to ferry souls of the dead to the afterlife. The ship glided over the roiling waves, trailing an ethereal mist until it was nearly butting up against the shore. There was a loud splash as an anchor was dropped followed by the thump of the gangplank hitting wet ground. The figures that filed off the ghostly ship were hulking, but that was mostly an illusion brought on by the heavy fur cloaks and hats wrapped around their shoulders. Although Harry noticed as they moved into clearer focus, they did seem to be of a far sturdier build than the Beauxbaton lot. At least they had dressed for the cold.

The Headmaster of Durmstrang was thinner than many of his students, with hawkish features and a little twist of a goatee that did little to hide his weak chin. The eyebrows were certainly impressive enough to make up for that, however, bristling out of the man's brow like a pair of angry, black caterpillars. He shook hands with Dumbledore, the motion brief and perfunctory.

“Dumbledore, dear fellow, so good to see you. It is wonderful to be back at Hogwarts.”

“And it is wonderful to have you back Professor Karkaroff.”

“Yes, yes,” Karkaroff murmured, gesturing one of his students forward, “if you don’t mind, Dumbledore, I would like to get Viktor into the warmth. He has a bit of a head cold.”

The boy that had shuffled forward was round shouldered even under the cloak, slouching next to the thinner Karkaroff with a brooding mien and a familiar prominent curved noise. Harry was trying to place where he might have seen him before when Millicent’s elbow dug into his side at the same time Draco grabbed his other arm in a vice-like grip, both of them hissing in tandem,

“That’s _Viktor Krum!_ ”

Harry blinked, shook off Draco’s hand before the other boy left bruises, and watched the Durmstrang students file by with Karkaroff and Krum at the head.

“I didn’t know he was young enough to still be in school.” Harry whispered back, rubbing at his side a little, Millicent had vicious elbows.

He wasn’t the only one talking, whispers and giggles had broken out all along the ranks of Hogwarts students. With many a person patting down their robes in search of quill and scraps of parchment, or else staring wide-eyed after the disappearing Quidditch star.

“He’s sure to get picked.” Draco said as McGonagall broke up a group of hissing sixth year Gryffindor girls who were fighting over a tube of lipstick (evidently the only viable writing tool to be found amongst them). “No contest.”

Millicent grunted her agreement, not taking her eyes off the entrance to the castle. The teachers had apparently given up any sense of order for a loss and allowed them all to file back inside behind the Durmstrang delegation. As they settled into their usual seats in the Great Hall, Harry wondered where the visitors were meant to sit, or sleep, if they were going to be sharing classes with them or not. The glum looking Beauxbatons had decided on the Ravenclaw table, a few of them still wrapped in scarves and looking chilly even though it wasn’t cold in the Hall at all. The Durmstrangs hung about the entrance a moment longer before Karkaroff pointed them over to the Slytherin table and everyone shuffled around to make room. Krum ended up across from Millicent, who seemed to be stuck in an expression of grim mulishness, as if she were trying so hard to seem unaffected by this unexpected occurrence that the girl had defaulted to brooding antipathy.

Krum did not seem to mind, however, merely shrugging off his heavy fur cloak and slouching down in his own seat like some sort of awkward turtle that also happened to be a world renowned Quidditch player.

Draco leaned past Harry to say something but before he could even get a word out Dumbledore interrupted, rising from his seat and spreading his arms wide in welcome. The robes he had worn for the occasion sparkled iridescently in all the House colors, Harry did not think the effect quite as fashionable as the man probably did himself.

“Welcome to our sister schools and those lucky few selected to participate in the upcoming Triwizard Tournament! It is sure to be a wonderfully exciting time. We at Hogwarts are honored to host you throughout the year. I am sure you all had long journeys and are quite famished, so without further ado.” Dumbledore tapped his wand on the podium and all the tables groaned simultaneously under the weight of the newly arrived feast.

Aside from the usual Hogwarts fare (and Harry’s special requests), there seemed to have been added more foreign foods. Draco in particular seemed delighted at new selections of what Harry presumed to be French dishes. Harry was reminded of that singular awkward meal that he had taken at Malfoy Manor, with all its tiny courses and finicky presentations. He took a serving a hearty looking stew instead.

“We saw you play at the World Cup.” Draco finally managed to say after everyone had dished out food onto their plates, he was leaning across Harry again to speak to Krum.

“Oh?” Krum raised both heavy brows.

“Yes, you were spectacular. The way you feinted that Ireland player straight into the ground.” Draco had that particular gleam in his eye that he only got talking about Quidditch and Harry debated whether he should just switch places with the blonde right then and avoid having to maneuver around him for every bite.

“Thank you, yes, it vas a good match.” Krum had gone from heavily brooding to only a light despondency. His voice was low and thick with a slavic accent and Harry once more wondered where exactly Durmstrang Academy resided in the world. “Pity ve did not vin.”

The feast progressed at a steady pace, with Draco spending much of it chatting with Viktor Krum, no matter how reticent the replies he got were. Causing Harry and Blaise to share pointed smirks and subtly rolled eyes. Krum never told the blonde to shut up, so perhaps he did not mind the Quidditch talk. Millicent eventually relaxed enough to add in a comment or two, even if she still looked a bit stiff and on the verge of crushing something.

Harry was relieved when the desserts finally disappeared and Dumbledore stood again to speak.

“Before we bring in the casket and get this Tournament officially started, I would like to extend, my sincere thanks to Mr. Bartemius Crouch and Mr. Ludo Bagman who have worked tirelessly to bring this entire thing to beautiful fruition. They will be acting as impartial judges along with myself and the other school Heads.” Dumbledore gestured at a pair of men that Harry had not noticed sitting at the teacher’s table. He recognised Bagman from the top box at the Cup, even though he was no longer wearing his yellow and black striped robes.

The thin man next to him must have been Crouch then, Percy Weasley’s boss and the man who had sent Sirius to Azkaban without trial. He was dressed sharply in dark gray robes, obviously expensively tailored if not very ostentatious for it. He had a pencil thin mustache and the look of a man who took great offence to rule breakers or slackers. As Bagman seemed to fit that bill to the letter, it was quite a miracle indeed that they managed to pull this all together.

“Now, I must remind all of you that this Tournament is dangerous and should not be entered into lightly. New restrictions have been placed to prevent any foreseeable disasters, but that does not negate the fact that you should all think very carefully before submitting yourself for consideration. An age line will be put into effect, preventing all students under the age of seventeen from entering.” There was a collective groan from around the Great Hall and Dumbledore twinkled at them, “Yes, yes, I know, such a travesty. I have faith that you will all pull through in the end, however. Now, Mr. Filch, if you would be so kind.”

Filch, who had been lurking at the entrance, shuffled forward with a large wooden casket in his hands, Mrs. Norris padding along behind him and taking the occasional swipe at an unprotected ankle. He set the box on a stool conjured by the Headmaster before giving a low bow and shuffling away again.

Dumbledore opened the casket and pulled out a large, roughly carved goblet with a flourish. There were blue white flames crackling from its basin.

“This is the Goblet of Fire, our means of choosing the worthy Champions. Those of you that are of age and wish to enter must simply write your name and school upon a slip of parchment and drop it into the flames. At the Halloween Feast tomorrow night it shall name those three Champions, so good luck to everyone. I am sure this is to be a very exciting year for us all.”

That was a clear dismissal and everybody started shifting about to head to their various dorms and sleep off all the food. Karkaroff came to collect his students, fussing over Krum even though it was clear the boy was perfectly alright. Krum seemed resigned to the treatment, however. There was a bit of a tense moment when Karkaroff spotted Harry with obvious recognition, his shrewd eyes darting from Harry’s Slytherin robes to where the lightning scare peaked out from under his messy hair.

Thankfully, Snape arrived to herd his charges along and distracted the man.

“Severus, old friend, I had heard you were teaching here.”

“Igor.” Harry’s father murmured, not looking the least enthused by the meeting.

“I have been meaning to have a word with you about certain matters, if you have time?” Karkaroff was twisting his little goatee around a finger, Harry got the feeling it was a nervous gesture as the man’s words had an air of forced casualness.

“Unfortunately, I am quite busy.” Severus said dryly, “I doubt I will have any amount of free time for idle chatter.”

“Oh, it is not _idle_ , Severus. Surely you can spare a moment in the coming weeks?”

“There is nothing to discuss, Igor, and you should be more wary of how you wag your tongue amongst company.” Severus sneered faintly, which had Karkaroff glaring but acquiescing nonetheless.

“What was that about?” Harry asked quietly when they were mostly alone, trailing behind the line of sleepy Slytherins heading down into the dungeons.

“Nothing. Karkaroff is an idiot.” Severus murmured back so that only Harry could hear. “You are to stay well clear of him. Just because the man lacks any form of subtly or acumen, does not mean he will not cause undue harm through fatuous negligence.”

“He called you an old friend,” Harry continued, feeling a chill run down his spine at the thought, “was he one of _His_?”

“Yes. Though how he managed to squirrel his way so far up the ranks baffles even me. It surprised exactly no one when Karkaroff fled the moment it became apparent exactly which was the losing side of things.”

The rest of the walk was silent as Harry mulled things over. It should not be difficult to avoid the man, but still, Harry wondered exactly what he wished to discuss with his father. Were there signs of the Dark Lord’s return? Or did the man merely wish to catch up with an old colleague to gauge the current circumstances on this side of the wizarding world that he had run from so long ago?

Whatever it was, Harry decided he would worry about it later. Right then it was time to sleep off the obscene amount of treacle tart he had indulged in.

~~~~~~~>

The next morning it was clear that Draco was far too excitable to sit for Occlumency and so they went to breakfast early, with Blaise and Millicent tagging along as well. They were by far not the only ones, as the Great Hall was filled with more students than Harry had ever seen at that hour before. There was a great cluster of them gathered around the entrance, where the Goblet of Fire was sat upon a little table and surrounded by a shimmering silver line. As he watched, one of the Gryffindor Chasers crossed the line and dropped a slip of parchment into the blue white flames to enthusiastic applause. The girl flushed but looked pleased nonetheless.

“You disappointed about not being able to enter?” Harry asked Draco, who was glowering at the girl with obvious jealousy.

“It’s not fair in the least,” the blonde complained, dropping into his seat and angrily scooping scrambled eggs onto his plate, “there have never been any age restrictions before.”

“And how many contestants died over the years?”

“That is hardly the point.” Draco huffed, fastidiously preparing a cup of tea while Harry hid his smirk in his robe collar.

“Perhaps you could levitate your name over the line and into the Goblet.” Blaise suggested, sipping at his usual dark coffee and not bothering to hide his own smirk at all.

“That might work...” Draco mused just at there was a bright flash and the Weasley twins were tossed across the flagstones, both now sporting magnificent flowing beards to rival even Dumbledore. “Or perhaps I shall simply enjoy the festivities.” Draco added faintly, touching his own bare chin lightly.

Harry and Millicent both snorted in amusement and Draco turned his glower on them which only made them snort again.

“Oh come, Draco, darling,” Blaise said sweetly, “I think you would look lovely with a bit of beard.”

Draco sniffed haughtily and ignored their snickers for the rest of breakfast.

The day passed swiftly with endless gossip about who had entered and who had failed to subvert the ageline and now sported various new facial hair, both boys and girls.

At Care of Magical Creatures, the Skrewts had once more grown in size and seemed to have finally found a food they liked. That it was their own kin was an issue that Harry was not sure was so bad an outcome. Perhaps they would simply cannibalize themselves to extinction and so spare the class from having to try and pretend to care for them.

Professor Hagrid seemed equal parts concerned for the things and utterly distracted. He kept glancing over to where the Beauxbaton carriage was parked on the lawn and Harry had the sneaking suspicion that it was the statuesque Madame Maxime that had so caught the man’s attentions. When the thought had occurred to him Harry immediately wished it had not and would very much like to go back to blissful ignorance, please. He was usually so good at not noticing those kinds of things that the fact that even _Harry_ picked up on it must mean that Hagrid had it bad to the Beauxbaton Headmistress. Thankfully a Skrewt choose that moment to try and set his robes aflame so Harry was thoroughly distracted from any wandering thoughts.

As they were walking to lunch after Transfiguration it was to find all the blue clad Beauxbaton students dropping their names in one by one. The odd thing though was that much of the student attention was not on the Goblet, but on one of the girls. She had pretty enough features, Harry supposed, and hair long and pale blonde enough to rival Draco’s. But there was also a stuck up sort of air about her as she flicked said hair over her shoulder and dropped in her own name delicately. The act should not have caused the majority of the crowd to sigh dreamily and Harry looked around, more confused than anything; noticing that many of the gathered students were male.

“That girl’s veela.” Blaise murmured, eyeing her consideringly from their place at the foot of the stairs. “Or part at least.”

“Really? How do you know?” At least Blaise wasn’t gaping like a lovelorn fool, unfortunately Ron Weasley a few paces in front of them could not claim the same.

“Just look at them,” Blaise gestured around at the students, who were now blinking away the sudden daze, “also, my great-grandmother was a veela. The traits are much more prominent in my mother, of course, as it does not pass down the male line in quite the same fashion.”

Harry thought that might explain quite a few things.

“So you can’t,” Harry wriggled his fingers for a lack of words as they finally started into the Hall.

“No. Nothing like that,” Blaise smirked, “although I did inherit quite the dashing smile, if I do say so myself.”

He flashed said smile and Harry could not help matching it a bit himself, although he doubted his teeth were anywhere near as white. Blaise had always had a nice smile, Harry realised, it was just so rare to see as the boy was usually smirking instead.

Two feasts in as many days was a bit indulgent for Harry’s tastes, but he had never actually attended a Hogwarts Halloween Feast before, so he supposed it was probably about time. It did not seem quite so painful a prospect this year, to allow a moment of celebration on the day of his parent’s deaths. Maybe it had something to do with Severus adopting him, that he was not actually alone anymore to mourn the loss of something he had never known. Perhaps it would even grant a little closure.

One thing was for sure, it could not possibly be any worse than the previous years' disasters.

Harry did not indulge as much on the food that night, although he did sneak a couple Ice Mice to Jax from one of the bowls of candies spread along the tables. Indeed everyone seemed much more interested in the coming selection than any amount of food or treats presented them. So that when the lights finally dimmed and Dumbledore stood the entire Hall leaned forward with excited impatience.

The Goblet had been moved onto the dais once more in full view of everyone, still burning with blue white light but now giving off the occasional spark.

“I believe the Goblet will have finished its deliberations in approximately one minute. Once your name is called, you will kindly proceed up here and through this door into the annex where details of your first task will be given.”

A moment after the Headmaster finished speaking the flames in the Goblet turned bright red and it spewed forth a slightly charred slip of parchment that Dumbledore caught nimbly in his hand.

“The Champion for Durmstrang is Mr. Viktor Krum!” He called out in a clear voice amongst loud applause as Krum rose from his slouch and shuffled his way up and through the appointed door.

The flames flared again, “Representing Beauxbaton will be Miss Fleur Delacour!”

The veela girl rose gracefully from her place at the Ravenclaw table, not looking in the least surprised and glided her way past clapping and whistling students to follow Krum through the door.

A final flare and the entire student body seemed to hold their breath as one, “For Hogwarts, Mr. Cedric Diggory!”

“A _Hufflepuff?!_ ” Draco gasped in despair, but his voice was drowned out by the thunderous roar from the yellow clad table. Fists were being pounded, feet stomped, silverware knocked against plates.

Cedric Diggory was fairly buried under a sea of his Housemates and had to struggle quite a bit to free himself and make his own way up to the dais.

“Excellent! Thank you, everyone. We now have our three Champions and I am sure they will bring honor and glory to the school they represent in the upcoming--” Dumbledore cut himself off as the Goblet of Fire flared up for a fourth time. Spitting another charred slip of parchment that the man caught on reflex as the Hall went suddenly quite once more.

“ _Harry Potter._ ”

Everyone turned to look at him, but all Harry could do was stare wide-eyed up at the Headmaster.

 _No._ No, this could not be happening.

“No.” He tried to say, but the single syllable somehow got mangled on its way up and came out as more of a choked croak.

“Harry Potter. Up here, please.” Dumbledore did not look amused, nor were his eyes twinkling.

Harry shook his head rapidly, looking at his father for help. But Severus had gone white, just as shocked by this turn of events as he was.

“ _Mr. Potter_.”

Harry got stiffly to his feet and did his best not to trip over his own robes as every eye in the room followed his progress up the dais. He tried to stop by his father’s chair but Dumbledore pointed at the annex door and Harry had to continue on.

Inside the room was a roaring fireplace and the three Champions spread out around the space, looking various shades of pleased. Of course they would be, that had _wanted_ this.

“Harry?” Cedric asked, smiling, “What is it?”

Harry could only shake his head mutely as he struggled to pull up his Occlumency shields in an effort to clear away the shock and allow him room to breathe.

The door burst open a moment later and Severus came through first, heading straight to Harry and grasping him by the shoulders tightly. It allowed Harry to finally feel as if he could let out all the air trapped in his lungs and he shuddered, taking deep gulps of air as he tried his hardest not to bury himself in his father’s robes under the judging eyes of so many people. Because it was no longer just the Champions and Severus, but Dumbledore, Madame Maxime, Karkaroff, Crouch, Bagman, and Moody as well.

“Harry, did you put your name in the Goblet of Fire?” Dumbledore asked, tone carefully neutral.

“No.”

“Of course he did not.” Severus snapped at the same time, narrowing his black eyes at the Headmaster and not relenting in his hold on Harry.

“What do you mean?” Fleur Delacour huffed, flicking her hair, “We already ‘ave a Champion for ‘Ogwarts.”

“It seems the Goblet has seen fit to assign us two, in point of fact.” Dumbledore corrected her without taking his eyes off Harry, who had managed to finally raise his shields but refused to meet the man’s eyes anyway. He did not wish to take any chances there.

“Zis it outrageous, Dumbly-dorr!” Maxime shouted, pointing a singular intimidating finger at the Headmaster. “‘Ogwarts cannot ‘ave _two_ Champions! I demand that Beauxbaton be given the same treatment!”

“Durmstrang as well, Dumbledore. I should have known you would try and pull some trick, my school shall never be participating in this facial Tournament again.”

“Nonsense, Igor!” Bagman interrupted, throwing an unwanted brotherly arm around the man, “This is extraordinary! Unprecedented! Four Triwizard Champions, think of it!”

“It is obviously a scheme.” Severus cut in coldly, transferring his narrow glare from Dumbledore to Bagman, significantly cowling the man with a single look.

“Scheme is right!” Karkaroff seethed, “A scheme to make sure Hogwarts comes out on top!”

“Harry,” Dumbledore addressed him again before any more squabbling could break out, “did you ask an older student to put your name in the Goblet for you?”

“ _No._ ” Now he was getting angry, in spite of his shields. “I wouldn’t. I don’t want to do this, I never did. Just take me out of the roster.”

“It is not that simple.” Crouch spoke up for the first time, “The Goblet is old magic. A binding magical contract that cannot be backed out of lightly.”

“I have money,” Harry protested, “I’ll pay any fine you want.”

“It’s not about _money_ , Mr. Potter, but _magic_. To break a contract of this magnitude after your name was drawn would damage your magical core greatly, perhaps even irrevocably.”

It wasn’t fair, Harry thought furiously. Why did these things always happen to _him_?

Then an idea occurred.

“It didn’t though,” he said, hope worming its way up, “it didn’t call my name.”

Severus’ hands grew tighter on his shoulders and he drew Harry incrementally closer.

The room stared at him with confusion, all except Dumbledore, who had that infuriating twinkle back.

“My name is not Harry Potter anymore, it’s _Snape_.”

The silence this time was near deafening, Cedric was looking between Harry and Severus with wide eyes and a stunned expression. While Bagman had started sputtering and Karkaroff frantically twisted at his goatee whilst eyeing Severus with an unreadable expression. Moody, for once, did not seem to have seen this coming and was staring with both eyes at Severus, haggard face grim with disapproval.

“Is this true?” Crouch inquired of Severus, who was smirking ever so slightly despite everything.

“Of course. Harry has been my son many months now, it is well document at the Ministry, if you wish for official proof.”

“Be that as it may, it is not enough to get him out of this Tournament. The Goblet would not have picked his name if it were any less valid than the one he currently holds. He was born Harry Potter and that is all the Goblet cares for. I am sorry.” He didn’t sound very sorry, more annoyed at the hiccup in his games than worried over Harry’s life.

“The question you should be asking,” Moody cut in, thumping the floor with his ever present staff, “is _how_ the Goblet went about choosing four names in the first place. Any maleficence in the act is clearly not at Mr. Potter’s hand, as it would take powerful magic and know how to fool as ancient an artifact as the Goblet of Fire into thinking there were four schools competing.”

“ _Snape_.” Harry insisted, past the point of caring and glaring opening at Moody. “My name is _Snape_.”

“Of course, Harry, my boy,” Dumbledore soothed, it had the opposite effect, “let us shelve this discussion for another time, however. It is getting late and we still have the details of the First Task to go over.”

“Excellent idea, Dumbledore.” Bagman clapped, apparently over his shock. “The first test is all about courage, eh. So we will not be telling you what it is you will be facing, only that it is to take place on the twenty-fourth of November in front of the panel of judges and the rest of the student body. You are not to seek help from anyone or accept any offered. So good luck and may the best Champion win!”

Bagman grinned brightly around the room, nobody returned the sentiment.

“Come, we are leaving.” Severus murmured, pulling Harry in the direction of a hidden door so that they did not have to exit out into the Great Hall.

“I didn’t do it.” Harry said again as they made their way down into the dungeons.

“I know. I will find out who did.” The words held a dark promise that nonetheless comforted Harry greatly, if anyone could figure it out, his father could.

“Can I stay in your quarters tonight?” He asked tentatively.

“Of course.”

Harry breathed a sigh of relief, reaching a hand into his robes to stroke at Jax who was as tense as Harry himself.

Harry didn’t have any spare clothes in Severus’ rooms, but his father lent him a soft shirt and shrunk down a pair of black sleep pants for him and that was more than enough. He settled down on the sofa in the study and obediently drank the cup of tea doctored with Calming Draught that his father handed him.

He should have seen this coming, Harry thought as he cleared his tired mind, nothing good ever happened on Halloween.


	10. Chapter 10

Harry awoke the next morning determined not to let what had happened at the previous night’s feast drag him down. He was angry. Frustrated and irritated at his life once more being turned on its head at the whims of some unknown threat. Harry was tired of not having control. Of being yanked back and forth with little say in the matter. So this time he would _not_ cower, would not just let things happen to him. He was going to fight back against this madness as much as he was able.

Not brazenly outright, of course, Harry was no _Gryffindor_. Nothing good would come from over stirring the cauldron.

No, Harry would have to act more subtly. He would go along with the Tasks assigned to him at the bare minimum that was required of the binding price for whatever ethereal contract the Goblet of Fire represented. Harry had no desire to damage his magical core out of sheer stubborn obstinance. It would do no good to scream and rage against an immovable object, his efforts would be better spent elsewhere. Such as gathering information on why he’d been put up as a fourth Champion. Who had done it. What they planned to do now that Harry was trapped in the Tournament.

His father no doubt had a few ideas already and Harry had an inkling himself who their prime suspect just might be. It was a chilling thought and one he did not relish considering, but Harry had long ago ceased expecting anything other than the very worst of circumstances. And if it turned out they were wrong, well then Harry would not complain.

Galvanized by this fresh perspective Harry rose from the comfort of the study’s sofa and fumbled the rectangular frames of his glasses onto his face before trying to fold his blankets with magic. Only to trap Jax inside the messy tangle and have to rescue the cursing serpent before he set fire to it, and by extension, Severus’ study. His second attempt was marginally more successful, although Harry had the feeling the house elves would be by to fix things up properly anyway. It was the principal of the thing.

In the sitting room his father was kneeling before the hearth, the flames in the grate the familiar bright green of Floo powder. He was already dressed for the day despite the earliness of the hour, a thin frown pulling his mouth ever downward in a severe expression as the man conversed in low tones with whoever was on the other side of the connection.

“--he alright?”

“As well as can be expected. Better, if you are able to dig anything of value up about the original contract.”

“Consider it done. I’ve been itching to get into the more archaic sections of the record hall. The Ministry can be frightfully irritating with their red tape concerning things past the last couple centuries.”

Miss Reid, Harry realised as he hung back, out of any direct line of sight from the hearth. It wasn’t that he didn’t wish to speak to her, it was more that he did not really wish to speak to _anyone_ at the moment.

“Do attempt not to become too distracted, this _is_ a time sensitive matter.”

“Yes, yes. You and Harry will have my full efforts, don’t you worry. I’ll owl you when I find something, Severus, give Harry my best. Toodles.”

The flames flared brightly in the hearth before mellowing out to a more natural orange and red flicker as Severus rose smoothly from the flagstones.

“If you are quite finished eavesdropping, there are tea and scones.”

Harry had the decency to not deny it, but his face was warm nonetheless as he crept forward.

“I didn’t mean to,” he mumbled into a steaming cup of strong black tea, “it just sort of happened. I only caught the end bit.”

His father quirked an eyebrow at him, not sitting himself but rather standing with his back to the fire and his arms folded before him in a pensive manner.

“Hmm, be that as is may, you should always commit fully one way or the other in future situations. Waffling will get you caught as easily as traipsing about announcing your intentions like some bumbling Gryffindor. The next time it may not be me you need to worry about catching you.”

“Yes, sir.” Harry nodded, feeding a nibble of blueberry scone to Jax. His father’s words had not been harsh or reprimanding in the traditional sense and Harry found himself asking, “What gave me away?”

Severus sent him a look, his black eyes holding approval at the inquiry right alongside a heaviness that Harry could only assume stemmed from the need of such skills in the first place.

“I could feel your eyes on me.” His father answered after a moment, his lecture voice bleeding into the words. “If you do not need to keep a constant watch on your query it is best to find a well secluded spot to listen without seeing.”

A faint smirk followed, “Also, I heard the study door open and close.”

Harry rolled his eyes a bit but made note of words anyway. As much as he did not wish for the need of such things, any advice from his father was welcomed gladly.

“Thank you for calling Miss Reid,” Harry said, taking a bite of his own from the scone, “I was going to send her an owl today.”

“I deemed the situation a bit more prudent than reliance on the speed of the Hogwarts barn owls. She has been informed on all pertinent information and I expect to hear back from her with all due haste.”

“Do you think she’ll find anything that could help?” Harry asked, not really putting any hope into the words.

From the way Crouch had been scowling the night before, it did not seem likely.

“I do not know.” Severus turned his own glower back onto the fireplace. “It would be remiss to not attempt it, however. We must approach this situation from as many angles as possible, else risk whoever is behind it triumphing.”

“Do you have any idea who that might be?” The unspoken insinuation hung heavy between them and his father’s scowl twisted ever tighter as he watched the flames dance along the burning logs.

“I do not know.” He repeated and Harry let it lie. He didn’t really want to hear it spoken aloud in any case.

Setting his half-drunk tea back on the tray Harry stood.

“I think I better head back to my dorm now, before Draco rallies a search party.”

That earned an amused snort at least and Harry meandered back to the study to change into yesterday's robes. Blaise would be horrified, but it was not as if he had much of a choice.

When he returned back to the sitting room his father had a cup of tea gripped tightly in his long-fingered hands. Harry stopped halfway to the exit, unsure.

“I believe it goes without saying that you are not to wonder about on your own.”

“No, of course not. I doubt any of my friends would let me anyway.”

His father nodded, “As well they should not.”

He then drained the rest of the steaming tea in one and set the cup on the mantle, showing no sign that the scolding liquid had harmed him at all.

“I shall escort you to the Slytherin dorms. After which there are a few conversations that I must have.” He put a hand on Harry’s shoulder, “If you wish to stay here tonight as well, that will not be an issue.”

Harry shook his head, “No. Thank you, but... but I think I’ll be fine in the dorms.”

Severus gave him another searching look but ultimately conceded.

“Very well. The offer is open, however. If you ever need space away from,” he made a vague gesture that still somehow managed to encompass all that was Hogwarts and its many issues therein, “know that you can come here.”

“I know, dad. Thank you.”

If his father’s face went a little soft then, well, only Harry and Jax were there to see it. And neither of them would ever tell.

~~~~~~~>

It was a Sunday, so at least Harry did not have to deal with attending any classes that day. Which was something of a blessing and a curse. While he did not have to confront the majority of the rest of the school and its visiting delegations, Harry also had to spend time dreading that happening.

Just because he was not about to roll over and accept his fate did not mean he was not apprehensive about having to deal with the upcoming bombardment he knew was lurking on the horizon.

Jax tried to cheer him up a little by describing in great detail just where and how many time he was going to bite whoever put Harry's name in the Goblet.

It helped a bit.

His friends spent the day sequestered in the common room with him without Harry even having to hint at asking, not that he would have. Which was probably what had Millicent rolling her eyes so hard and Blaise _tisking_ as he cleaned his fingernails with his feet tucked under Harry's leg on the sofa. Jax was coiled in Harry lap accepting pets from Draco while they all tried to figure just what had happened.

It was a bit of a circular discussion that led nowhere in particular, but Harry found it a cathartic in any case to voice how insane the whole thing was and have people agree with him.

A few other Slytherin’s meandered by, eyeing Harry contemplatively. But whether that was due to the Tournament or the rampant rumors sure to be circulating at speed throughout the school about Harry's apparent relation to Snape, he did not know. Slytherins in general, thankfully, tended to be the quietly observant sort. So Harry could deal with the stares and the looks, as long as they stayed just that. The moment the floodgates opened, however, he would not hesitate to make a calculated retreat into the dorms.

What he was finding harder to ignore, however, was the grumbling in his stomach as the hours stretched on into noontime and Harry realised all he’d had to eat that day was half a blueberry scone. He lamented slightly the loss of his food stashing habit, as that would have guaranteed him a good stockpile of vittles for just such an occasion. Although, Harry supposed, the fact that he did not feel the need to continuously hide away emergency sources of sustenance was probably a good thing. If slightly inconvenient at the moment.

A particularly loud rumble had not only Jax but also Blaise and Draco giving him significant looks and Harry sighed heavily.

“A trip to the kitchens then?” Millicent suggested, already pushing Maximus the cat from her lap and standing.

Harry let out another sigh, this one far more relieved. He should have thought of that. Harry hadn’t had a chance to check in with the elves this year yet anyway. So he could ride that thin excuse gladly. Besides, it was getting a little stifling in the common room. The Carrow twins had taken up a pair of seats at a writing desk and had been staring at Harry with their creepy, beady gazes for far too long. For tiny first years, they were quite eerie. Or maybe it was the fact that they hardly ever seemed to blink and held identical, sneering expressions. Either way, Harry was glad to be well shot of the room even if it meant braving the corridors on the way to the kitchens.

“Yeah, let’s do that.”

They did not meet anyone on the way, although there were a couple close calls. The dungeons had never been the busiest part of the castle and Harry could only assume himself to be the reason for the increased foot traffic on a Sunday afternoon.

The kitchens were a familiar burst of warm air and noise that had Harry relaxing almost instantly. It smelled of baking bread and roasting vegetables and the elves bustling around the room were far more interested in their work than the group of fourth years that had wandered in. For the most part at least, anyway. Harry could see Fitzy breaking away from a towering pile of yams to come greet them.

“Mr. Harry Snape, sirs and friends! How can Fitzy be helping you today?”

Harry blinked at the address but did not refute the title. House elves, he had found, innately knew things on a level deeper than most.

“Hello, Fitzy, I hope you liked the things I sent over the summer.” He had purchased a large bag of Warheads to mail along to the elves when he’d spotted them on a shopping trip with his father. Knowing the elves penchant for muggle sweets he thought the sour candies might be a nice treat to include with his usual shipment of bribery in form of various fizzy drinks.

“Oh, Mr. Harry Snape, they is being wonderful! Although poor Bippy ate three blue ones at once and couldn’t taste things right for a week, sir.”

Blaise quirked an eyebrow at this and Harry made a mental note to buy more for his friend to try as well. Although not nearly as corrosive as Acid Pops, the muggles had done a decent enough job imitating the effect.

“I’m glad you liked them, Fitzy. We just came down for--”

But his words were cut off by a loud bang as a heavy pot was set on a countertop with far too much force. The elf responsible did not seem to care, however, as he was already rushing over in a flurry of excited squeaks.

“Master Draco! Master Draco! It is being wonderful to see you!” The elf skidded to a halt before Draco, who looked as startled at the enthusiasm of the elf as much as its appearance.

He looked like nothing so much as a floppy-eared, multicolored mummy. For instead of the usual clean tea towel with the Hogwarts crest embroidered in the corner, the elf was wearing a vast assortment of ties wrapped around all his limbs overtop of what looked to be a pair of boardshorts and a sleeveless t-shirt. The ties were all In clashing colors and patterns, diamonds and tartan and stripes, Harry even though he spotted one with dancing skeletons. In pride of place, however, around the elf’s thin neck was a familiar emerald and silver striped number.

“ _Dobby?_ ” Both Draco and Harry said at the same time, Dobby beamed.

“Dobby is being so pleased to see you both!”

“What are you doing here, Dobby?” Draco managed, which was good because Harry was stuck a bit just staring.

“Dobby is coming to work at Hogwarts!” The elf exclaimed with a happy clap, his large protuberant eyes shining. “Dobby loves being free, sirs, but not very many wizards wants to be paying house elves.”

A derisive snort from Fitzy sounded but Dobby went on as if he hadn’t heard a thing, “I has been traveling all over and it was very nice, yes, but Dobby missed working. So I’s came back and tried to find some, but it is being harder than Dobby thought. Then I came across Winky who had also been freed,” Dobby pointed to an elf curled up by one of the large fires, a bottle of something in her hand and more scattered around her swaying form. She was wearing a tattered little dress and did not look pleased in the least by it. “Winky had been freed too! But she’s not taking to it as well as Dobby, sirs. No, no, she’s is not. Only wants to be returning to her old Master. Even though Dobby keeps telling her she is being better off.”

“Who was her old Master?” Millicent asked curiously, eyeing the drunken elf as she slumped closer and closer to being horizontal on the hearthstones.

“Mr. Bartemius Crouch.” Dobby fairly spat, a startling amount of anger in the statement, “He is being horrid to Winky and Dobby keeps telling her so, but she doesn’t listen.”

Crouch. So this was the elf that had been caught under the Dark Mark at the Quidditch World Cup.

“But when did you come _here_?” Draco implored, still looking slightly unnerved by the tie wrapped elf practically hugging his legs.

“After Dobby be finding Winky sirs, Dobby being thinking of where there is need of two more house elves and comes to Hogwarts. Professor Dumbledore is being paying Dobby a _whole galleon_ a week, sirs. And Dobby gets one day off a month!” The elf seemed frankly overjoyed at the declaration, even as Fitzy scowled and huffed next to him.

“Elves do not be needing _payment_ , Dobby.” Fitzy sneered, snapping a hand towel at the grinning elf, “It is being unseemly.”

Dobby just continued to smile and pointedly ignored the other elf, Harry had a feeling this was a long standing argument between the two of them.

A loud grumble from Harry’s stomach embarrassingly forestalled any further conversation as both elves took it upon themselves to remedy the situation. The four of them ended up leaving the kitchens with food enough to last an entire week, let alone a single meal. Harry was not about to complain. He would take this one day of isolation from the rest of the school. But tomorrow he knew he’d have no choice but to resume meals in the Great Hall. If only get things over with quicker.

“I always knew there was something off about that elf.” Draco muttered as he delicately assembled a finicky looking sandwich, it had _watercress_ on it. Harry eyed the blonde, noting that Draco had not sounded nearly so derisive as the statement might have warranted back in their second year. In fact, the boy sounded almost bemusedly _fond_.

“What was with all the ties?” Millicent asked around a mouthful of a much heartier sandwich.

“They were not coordinated at _all_ ,” Blaise added, looked offended on behalf of said clothes, “and the quality of the fabrics inconsistent at best.”

They were gathered in the boy’s dorm, as the common room had been far too crowded for Harry’s liking when they had returned from the kitchens.

“ _I liked them,_ ” Jax commented, bobbing his head, “ _it looked like he was covered in snakes._ ”

Harry nearly choked on his own food before managing to swallow and repeating the compliment to the others, earning a round of snickers.

“It’s probably because it was my tie I used to free him.” Draco mused, “It was probably for the best in the end. Even in spite if this unforeseen consequence.”

Harry nodded agreement, as hard as some truths were, it was always better to know than not in his opinion.

“Well,” Blaise drawled, “it seems to have made him your number one fan, Draco darling. How lovely it must be to be appreciated so.”

Draco, very inelegantly, threw a handful of grapes in the other boy’s face.

~~~~~~~>

 

The next few days were an exercise in patience. Students of all years were constantly coming up to him to bombard Harry with questions about how he’d fooled the age line. How he’d gotten the Cup to pick four Champions. What he was planning to do now. Did he know what the First Task was? Would he tell them? Pretty please?

It was exhausting, repeating the same answers over and over. No, he didn’t do it. No, he didn’t know how it was done.No, none of them knew what the Task was. _No. No. No._

If it wasn't questions about how he’d done it, it was sneering comments about it being _just like a Slytherin_ to trick his way into the competition. The Hufflepuffs in particular seemed to take great offense at his choosing. Which Harry could not really blame them for, as that House got so little opportunity to prove their mettle and when a huge one comes along, there’s Harry to bollocks it all up.

At least Justin wasn’t shunning him, as Harry had half-expected him to. No, the smiling boy had bounced over at their usual study time and asked him, face open and understanding, if Harry was _alright_.

“I mean, it obviously wasn’t you that did it. You looked shocked half to death when Professor Dumbledore read out your name, no one could have faked that.”

Harry swallowed around the lump that had formed in his throat and managed a shallow shrug. But Justin seemed to get the gist of it in any case, taking it upon himself to glare at any offending Hufflepuffs that wandered by. It was a bit like a bunny glaring up at wolves but the sentiment still warmed him.

Susan Bones was of the same mindset, although she seemed to be taking a more lateral approach to the problem. Piling the worktable with wizarding law books and going at them with a grim sort of determination that was juxtaposed only slightly by her blonde pigtails. Hermione Granger happily joined in with the endeavour. Harry did mention that he had an actual lawyer looking into things, but his comments were waved off.

“More eyes are always better, Harry.” Hermione muttered, flipping furiously through a tome, Susan’s pigtails bobbing in agreement.

Harry left them to it, not actually fussed and more than a little touched at the support.

His study group was only a small haven, however. And Harry still found himself constantly fending off nosey students or bitter Hufflepuffs or else the flabbergasted masses when news of his adoption finally managed to make the rounds.

“Snape? Really? _Professor_ Snape?”

“How’s that even possible? Are bats even allowed to adopt?”

“Maybe it’s a scheme? A ploy to get at The-Boy-Who-Lived. You know what they say about Snape.”

Most of the comments Harry heard in passing, which was fortunate. As had any of the more offensive statements been said to his face, Harry doubted he would have been able to keep his composure. It was not a thing he was about to deny either. He was through with hiding.

The first time Professor McGonagall called him Mr. Potter in class he took a deep breath and replied, “I would prefer if you use my correct surname, Professor.”

It had been a bit nerve wracking, as McGonagall was an intimidating witch to say the least.

But she had only nodded sharply, a steely glint in her eye, “Of course, Mr. Snape. My apologies. Now, the passage on owls to opera glasses, if you would be so kind.”

All in all, it was an exhausting week and Harry had very little to look forward to in it. Potions class being one of the few highlights. They were making antidotes and it was fascinating, as each had to be tailored to the specific poison. Harry even found himself smiling ever so faintly as he thinly sliced his valerian root. He father had said they would even be testing the brews and Harry was sure by the nearing end of class that his would work perfectly.

However, a knock on the door brought them all to a halt as Colin Creevey poked his mousey head in.

“Um, Professor Snape, sir?”

“Yes?” Severus bit out, glowering at the interruption in the form of a small Gryffindor.

“Erm, Harry’s needed upstairs, sir.” Colin squeaked, though he managed not to shake too terribly under the unimpressed gaze of the Potion Master.

“Unfortunately, he is quite busy at the moment with _class_. Whatever nonsense it is can wait.”

“It’s about the Triwizard Tournament, sir.” Colin persisted, if a bit shakily, and Harry had to hand it to the little guy. Not many could resist quelling under the sort of look Severus was leveling at the boy after those words. “Mr. Bagman’s sent me to fetch him. Right away. Sorry.”

Harry was already gathering his things by then, carefully stoppering a portion of his potion. Maybe he’d be able to test it out later.

“Very well.” The Potion Master did not seem pleased at all about having to concede, which made two of them.

Colin Creevey’s enthusiasm alone more than made up for it, however, as the boy kept up a relentless stream of chatter all the way to the third floor. No even Jax maneuvering himself out of the bag and across Harry’s shoulders to glare at the Gryffindor did much to slow him down. Apparently there were to be photographs taken, for an article. Harry would have much rather returned to the dungeons to poison his classmates.

He did manage to shake Colin off at the door to the usually abandoned classroom, however, which was a small mercy.

“Good luck, Harry!” The boy waved enthusiastically, nearly tripping down a flight of stairs as he refused to turn around.

Inside the room was Viktor Krum, slouched broodily on a corner. Cedric Diggory chatting amicably with Fleur Delacour in another corner. Madame Maxime Taking up a fair amount of the remaining space with the thin Karkaroff next to her, twisting his little goatee around a finger. There was also a man with a bulky looking camera that was smoking slightly in his hands, and Ludo Bagman, who grinned at Harry and threw his arms up in welcome.

“There he is, our fourth Champion. Wonderful.”

“A moment first, if you please, Ludo.” A woman with acid green nails and curly blonde hair cut in, she was eyeing Harry a bit like a cat after a baby bird. “I would like to conduct a couple short interviews before the wand weighing, to add a bit of spice to the article, you understand.”

“Marvelous idea, Rita. I think we have a couple minutes to spare, as I see the Headmaster is not here yet.” Bagman agreed readily and Harry was not surprised in the least when she came over to him first.

Rita Skeeter, Harry presumed, the woman who seemed to make it her mission to drag every name she could lay her hands on through the mud.

“Harry Potter, our youngest Champion, why don’t we start with you, hmm?”

“Snape.” Harry corrected, leveling her with his most unimpressed stare, he’d had quite a lot of practice at it over the last week. “My name is Snape.”

Skeeter just grinned, a sharp, vicious thing, “Is that right? How _interesting_ , why don’t we nip over here and you can tell me all about it.”

She grabbed Harry’s arm, presumably to drag him into the nearby supply closet, but Jax rose up and hissed a warning in her face as Harry pulled himself free. Skeeter took a step back but looked more affronted than scared.

“What a... lovely creature.”

Harry reached a hand up to stoke at Jax, not taking his eyes off of the woman, he wasn’t going anywhere with her.

“ _That bitch smells off,_ ” Jax hissed in his ear, “ _she’s an animagus._ ”

“ _Really?_ ” Harry murmured back, narrowing his gaze at her. “ _Can you tell what kind?_ ”

“ _Not a dog or a rat. I don’t think any kind of furry thing._ ”

“ _Bird maybe? Or lizard?_ ”

Jax made a noncommittal noise as Skeeter started to look more and more irritated at being left out of the conversation so thoroughly.

“Mr. _Snape_ , I only wish a few private words with you.”

“Unfortunately I do not wish to give you any. I am sure the others will be more than willing to give you all the statements you need.” Harry smirked, an inkling tickling the back of his mind. “If you’ll excuse me.”

He stepped away from the fuming witch with her sharp looking nails and mysterious animagus scent and went to stand by Krum, whom he deemed the least likely to complain about his presence.

“You speak vith snakes?” The older boy asked curiously, his heavy brows raised ever so slightly. Krum did not sound accusatory or spooked, only politely curious, it was a nice change of pace.

“Yes, I’ve always been able to. I have it on a good authority that I am very, very, distantly related to Salazar Slytherin.”

Krum nodded, “That is a rare gift, you should be proud. And your snake, he is very...” he waved a hand, apparently unable to find the correct word in English, “nice? To look at. The colors.”

“ _I like this guy,_ ” Jax hissed, preening and Harry scritched under his smug chin.

“Jax says thank you.”

Krum grunted, but any further conversation they might have had was interrupted by Bagman calling for all of their attentions. Skeeter had apparently forgone any more interviews for the time being, Harry felt a little smug himself at that.

“And here is Dumbledore, now we can get one with the Weighing of the Wands.” Bagman announced jovially as the Headmaster entered the room. “May I introduce Mr. Ollivander? Who will be providing his expertise in these matters to make sure all of your wands are in tip-top shape for the competition.”

Harry had not noticed the wizened old man as he’d been seated behind the voluminous Maxime, but Harry well remembered his unblinking stare. Ollivander had always slightly unnerved him and that feeling did not dissipate as he watched the man shuffle forward into the center of the room.

Fleur Delacour went first, sweeping up to the old wizard and handing over her wand with a flick of her flowing blonde hair.

Ollivander felt along the length of the wood, hmming and muttering.

“Nine and a half inches... rosewood... and at the core, oh dear me, is that veela hair?”

“From my grandmuzzer.” Fleur said proudly, flicking her hair again.

“I’ve never liked using veela hair myself, tends to be temperamental. Though I suppose this would have a special resonance with you.” He swished the wand and made a bouquet of flowers appear that he then handed to the girl. “Perfectly sound. Mr. Diggory, you next.”

Cedric handed his over with a shy sort of smile.

“This is one of mine now, isn’t it.” Ollivander stated, “Twelve and a quarter inches, unicorn hair from a particularly feisty specimen.” A series of silver smoke rings later and Cedric was sent back with his approval.

“Mr. Krum.”

Viktor Krum slouched his duck footed way over and thrust out his wand before stuffing his hands in his pockets.

“Now this is a Gregorovitch one, if I were to hazard a very well informed guess.”

“Yes.” Krum grunted.

“Hmm, a bit thicker make than usual, hornbeam and dragon heartstring?”

Another grunt.

“ _Avis._ ” There was a bang and a flock of tiny birds burst forth from the end of the wand and circled the room before escaping through the open window.

“That seems to be well in order then.”

Krum retrieved his wand and slouched his way back as Harry was called forward at last.

“Ah yes, I well remember this wand, young Mr. Snape. Curious it was then, and still it remains.”

Harry stayed silent, equal parts worried that Ollivander would tell the room just what was so curious and oddly grateful that he had not hesitated in using Harry’s new name. Ollivander was a creepy old wizard, of that there was no doubt, but Harry did not think the man malicious.

“Holly and Phoenix feather.” It seemed to take Ollivander much longer to examine Harry’s wand, but eventually the man made a shower of wine and pronounced it sound. Giving Harry leave to retreat.

The day was far from over however, as they still needed to take pictures and nobody seemed to be able to agree on who should be standing where. It was tedious and exhausting and Harry just wanted it to be over. When they were finally released, Harry made a beeline for the dungeons. There was no way he was going to deal with dinner in the Great Hall after all that. Skeeter had called after him, no doubt in a last ditch effort to get him alone, but Harry was having none of it.

He would do the Tasks, but he was willing to bet there was nothing in the bylines about having to give interviews.


	11. Chapter 11

When the article came out a few days later Harry thought about not reading it but figured it would do him no good to be lacking details on whatever tripe Skeeter had decided to write about him in retaliation for the snubbing. The large cover photo of them all was the only thing about it that really related to the Tournament, and only then by dint of having the other Champions and their school leaders present. The actual story was more of an acrimonious inquisition into why the _beloved_ hero of the wizarding world Harry Potter had forsaken his given name. The one passed down to him by his loving parents who had sacrificed their _lives_ for him and instead insisted upon spitting on their memories by shunning his birthright for that of the well known rival of James Potter and rumored Dark wizard _Severus Snape_.

The page was littered with questions about _why_ Harry had been sorted into Slytherin when no Potter had stepped foot in that House in a century. And _how_ it came to be that Snape had been granted guardianship over him, eventually leading to the adoption. Which itself had earned a lengthy half page's worth of pointed accusations and demands to know the reason Harry was removed from his blood relatives in the first place.

There were biting aspersions on his both his father’s character and appearance, with quotes from anonymous sources about how acerbic, biased, and unforgiving his teaching methods tended to be. Harry suspected them to be from easily intimidated students, or else those bitter at their own failing potion grades. Because the truth was, Severus’ personality had actually _improved_ since Harry’s first year. The Potion Master was not nearly so harsh as he had once been. Sure, he would never be as affable as Sprout or even necessarily _nice_ in general, but he had also mostly stopped gouging points to an extreme or else berating every tiny little mistake made in his classroom. Sure, he still eviscerated essays of those being lazy and was unquestionably highly exacting of the performance expected in lessons. But it was less... cruel. If mistakes were made they were corrected with a sharp tongue but not one as laced with venom as it once had been. Unless the perpetrator was making a complete and utter mess of things due to obvious negligence, for which they received a just amount of scorn and punishment. Detentions were still handed out quite easily, which Harry really could not blame his father for.

Then there were the accusations of Dark magic. The not-so-subtle hints that maybe it was that sort of influence that was turning the poor, innocent, Boy-Who-Lived away from the Light. That Harry was being lured aside, twisted and corrupted by unsightly subjection.

 _It was right there for those with eyes to see_ , Skeeter postulated, _our saviour, a Parseltongue. Withdrawn and quiet, dear readers, when I wished only to speak with him about his entrance into the Triwizard Tournament he looked simply petrified of talking at all. Communing only with the aggressive serpent pictured above. Oh, sweet readers, how I pity the poor boy that he has become so unfortunately swayed from the right path. I for one..._

“Er, Harry?” A tentative voice broke through the fury that was building up in him and Harry managed to tear his eyes away from the paper long enough to glare up at a nervous looking Ron Weasley. “Mate, maybe you should put that down.”

“Why?” Harry bit out, he could feel the _Prophet_ trembling in his hands even as Ron reached over to try and tug it away.

“It’s just smoking a bit, is all. You know how Pince gets when there’s fire in the library.” Ron tried to laugh, to make a joke of it, but the sound was more like a nervous giggle that died out after only a couple seconds.

The paper _was_ smoking.

And when Ron finally managed to wrest it from his grasp Harry saw scorch marks where his hands had been, one of them burning straight over Fleur Delacour’s pretty face (which she did not appear to appreciate as she was now brandishing a very unladylike gesture at him whilst trying to hide behind Madame Maxime).

Harry narrowed his gaze at still smoking _Prophet_ in the other boy’s hands. How dare she? What right did Skeeter think she had to pry into his business? To insult not only him but his father as well? Severus had done more for Harry than anyone else in his entire life. Rita Skeeter could fuck right off with her accusations. He would _not_ stand for this.

A tiny flame started curling up one of the wrinkled corners and Ron hastily dropped the paper, Theo quickly smothering it with his bunched up scarf. Harry didn’t care, he was already pushing back from the table.

“Can I borrow Pigwidgeon, Ron? I need to send a letter.” It came out as more of a demand but Ron nodded in any case so Harry set as quick a pace as his short legs would carry him towards the owlery, the Gryffindor hot on his heels.

Harry did not say another word or even look back until they had reached the top of the tall tower, the sounds of flapping wings and soft hooting an odd balm on his burning anger. Jax was not best pleased to be there, especially when Harry opened his satchel to retrieve quill and parchment and Ron Weasley’s minute owl came whizzing down, bypassing the redhead entirely, to dive bomb into the bag.

“ _Fuck! No! Get out you flying rat! I will_ eat _you!_ ”

“ _Don’t eat him,_ ” Harry mumbled unconcernedly, scribbling furiously on his parchment, “ _I need him to send a letter to the Ministry._ ”

Ron Weasley made a strangled sort out sound, as if unsure whether he should reach into the writhing bad to rescue his bird (who was hooting away merrily in spite of the continued hissed threats) risking a bite himself, or burn depending on the serpent’s level of anger (high).

“Er, mate?”

“Almost done.”

“ _Fuck off, I don’t want your cuddles you little pintsized ball of feathery shit!_ ”

Harry tapped a drying spell on the letter and rolled it up just as Ron seemed to have gained the needed courage to extricate his bird from Harry’s bag and its supremely disgruntled resident. Pigwidgeon was reluctant to leave but a slightly harried scolding from Ron and the promise of a delivery had him wriggling happily in the Gryffindor’s hands.

“Take this to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.” Harry instructed, tying the scroll to the owl’s tiny leg, it was ridiculously proportioned but Pig seemed enthusiastic enough to more than make up for it, giving Harry what was presumably an affirmative hoot before Ron released him out one of the large windows. Pig fell a couple feet straight down before managing to gain any true momentum but was soon flapping determinedly off into the distance.

“So what was that about?” Ron asked, giving Harry a sideways glance as they descended the stairs once more.

“A hunch.”

“Ah.”

Ron looked like he wanted to say more but one glance at the thunderous look still hardening Harry’s face belayed it. The anger had turned cold inside him, cold, calculating, and unlikely to dim any time soon. Skeeter would rue the day she ever said an unkind word about his father. Or himself for that matter.

~~~~~~~>

The article did not help the other students get over his unexpected addition to the Tournament, nor dampen their curiosity over his adoption. In fact, it seemed to greatly exacerbate each issue to the point where Harry had taken to wearing his headphones between classes to drown out the jeering Hufflepuffs and nosey questions thrown at him in passing. It was only marginally helpful, as many of the students had no idea that Harry couldn’t even hear them and the other percentage didn’t seem to care, just shouting louder or gesticulating wildly until Millicent started cracking her knuckles at them or Harry simply turned around and left. So he stowed the headphones back away after a couple days and instead worked on his unimpressed stare and gained a lot of practical experience Occluding while under stress.

His father was weathering the storm far better than Harry. Merely sneering at the _Prophet_ and making it very clear that he would be tolerating no disrespect from any student foolhardy enough to think they could question him about anything resembling his personal life or that of Harry’s in his presence. A large influx of detentions and point loss paid proof to that swiftly enough and Harry could not help taking a little vindictive pleasure in seeing the drain of yellow diamonds out of the Hufflepuff hourglass over the past week.

“You know,” Justin commented dryly as they passed said counters on their way outside, “they got Cedric’s name wrong in that article. In the very last paragraph, where she managed squeezed in actual info about the Triwizard Tournament.”

“I’m not surprised.” Harry snorted.

“More so that she remembered at all what she was supposed to be covering.” Draco added.

Harry had wanted some air, and to get away from the main populous of the school, and had figured the recent large drop in temperature would keep most other students inside. Justin and Draco had insisted on joining him, as had Millicent and Blaise, then Neville had met them on their way down. So it wasn’t so much the isolated walk Harry had envisioned, but at least it was quieter than inside the castle. And with fewer prying eyes and muttered insults.

Or at least there should have been. Harry had never been lucky that way though.

“Oi, Potter!”

Holding in a sigh, Harry looked over to see a tall blonde boy glaring down his upturned nose at him. He had an arrogant sort of look about him and was unsurprisingly sporting a Hufflepuff scarf wrapped around his neck to ward off the autumn chill.

“It’s Snape, actually.” Harry replied with as little inflection as possible, he was just not in the mood for whatever this boy wanted.

“ _Snape,_ ” he fairly spat, face going pinched and haughty, “of course. I had nearly forgotten that in addition to stealing rightful glory owed to Hufflepuff House, you also abandoned your own family.”

“Hey!” A chorus of voices sounded around Harry in tandem.

“Piss off, Smith.” Justin barked, “You know Harry didn’t want to be in this stupid Tournament and you have no right talking to him about things you know shit all about.”

Smith sneered at Justin, “You’re a traitor to your House Finch-Fletchley, slumming around with _him_ when you should be supporting Cedric. So much for _loyalty_.”

“You’ve done more to damage Hufflepuff’s reputation with your shoddy Quidditch playing than he could ever hope to achieve, Smith.” Draco drawled, sounding bored and putting the haughty look on the other boy’s face to shame with his own coldly contemptuous gaze. Although, Harry noticed, Draco also had his wand held loosely in his hand.

Millicent snorted, “He’s got you dead to rights there, Smith. How many Quaffles did you drop last season?”

Smith flushed, face twisting angrily as he clenched fists at his sides.

“At least I don’t look like my face has been smashed in by one too many Bludgers, Bulstrode. It’s no wonder you don’t have a boyfriend. Any boy in their right mind would run screaming at the sight of you.”

“Hey!” This time, Harry’s voice joined in echoing the sound of dissent and he found he’d taken a step forward, his wand appearing in his hand without thought.

“You had better leave now, Smith.” Harry told him, “Before I test just how far my father will let me go in defending myself and my friends against a perceived threat.” He snorted derisively, giving the arrogant boy a dismissive once over, “Not that you would pose much of a challenge. Still, it is good to know one’s boundaries and how far you are able to cross over them with due cause.”

Smith drew in a great breath, as if readying himself for another biting diatribe before seemingly realising he was far outnumbered.

“Fucking _Slytherins_.” Smith really did spit then, turning on his heel. “At least _I_ know the meaning of family loyalty.”

Harry rolled his eyes, satisfied enough with seeing the back of him and stowing his wand away. Smith was mostly hot air, it was clear to see. Draco, however, had raised his own wand and was taking careful aim at the retreating Hufflepuff’s back.

There was a bang and a flash of light but nothing happened to Smith. Harry, blinking away the spots from his eyes nearly jumped at the gravely shout from behind them.

“OH NO YOU DON'T, BOY!” Moody came clunking over, haggard face twisted in clear disapproval as he flicked his wand through the air, “Cowardly, slimy, thing to do. Attacking while your opponent's back is turned. I’ll not abide it!”

There was a loud series of frightened squeaks as something pure white and furry flew through the air, bouncing as if hitting invisible walls. Draco was nowhere to be seen and Harry had a sinking feeling he knew why.

“Never-- do-- that-- again--”

Harry moved to try and grab what had to be Draco out of the air while the rest of the group started shouted at Moody to stop and reverse it. Harry was too short though and the... the _ferret_ kept slipping right past his fingers on its mad journey through the air. Thankfully a moment later Neville was able to catch him, holding the trembling Draco close to his newly broadened chest with both hands even as Harry rounded on Moody, ready to unleash his full, unfiltered wrath upon the man. He had a lot of it pent up and was caring less and less by the second how monumentally bad an idea it would be to take it out on a teacher, especially the ex-Auror that had it out for his father.

“ _Professor Moody_ , what _are_ you doing?” A new voice called out before Harry could do much more than redraw his wand.

It was McGonagall. She was striding forward with a determined air and steel in her gaze as she took in the scene.

“Just teaching a little practical lesson, Minerva, not to worry.” Moody flicked his wand again and Neville’s hands gave an aborted jerk but he managed to keep hold of Draco even as the ferret gave another pained sounding squeak.

“Is that a _student_?” McGonagall gasped, pulling her own wand.

“Little blighter was looking to curse another boy with his back turned, that’s just not on in my book. This’ll set him straight though. Let up, Longbottom, you’ve less cause than most to be protecting the likes of him.”

Neville glared more fiercely than Harry had ever seen him do before, reaffirming his grip on Draco and drawing himself up to his newly filled out stature in full. It was an oddly impressive sight, given the Gryffindor's usual shy and demure nature.

“You do _not_ use transfiguration as punishment, Alastor!” McGonagall barked, “We take points, or give detentions.”

Moody huffed, finally ceasing his wand movements. Draco tried to burrow under Neville’s cloak and Neville let him, holding protective hands over the trembling fabric and still glaring at Moody fiercely.

“I’ll do that then.” The man rolled his normal eye, as if beleaguered by the thought of so mundane a punishment, “Detention for a month, Malfoy.”

“You most certainly will not.” McGonagall cut in, overriding him. “Whatever transgression Mr. Malfoy may have done has been more than paid for by this unnecessary cruelty. I suggest you go speak with the Headmaster about proper conduct before you harm any more students.”

Moody’s electric blue eye was spinning madly even as the man smirked, “If you insist, Minerva. Perhaps I can persuade Albus to make some changes in these matters.”

McGonagall’s nostrils flared but Moody was clunking away back across the courtyard already. She looked about ready to charge after him when Neville spoke up.

“Professor? What about Draco?”

“Of course, Longbottom. Bring him out.”

Draco the ferret was reluctant to leave the shelter of Neville’s cloak but Neville managed to coax him out with a few soft words. Pure white and trembling, Draco looked so small and vulnerable in Neville’s hands that Harry was extremely relieved when McGonagall did a complex motion with her wand and he was restored to his usual form; if with his hair now a tangled mess. Neville was still holding onto him, but Draco did not seem to mind so much in that moment. He was wide-eyed and still shaking and Harry could feel the anger bubbling up inside him again. What right did Moody think he had? Did any of them think they had? Why was the world filled with such needless cruelty?

“Are you quite well, Mr. Malfoy? Do you require a trip to the hospital wing?” McGonagall gave Draco a brisk once over as the blonde shook his head mutely. “Very well, rest assured I will be having words of my own with Headmaster Dumbledore. This sort of thing will never happen again.”

She then turned on her own heel and cut a determined stride after Moody.

Harry saw Smith off to the side, snickering behind his hand but the boy scarpered as soon as he saw Harry glaring at him.

“Alright, Draco?” Harry asked, feeling useless and angry and frustrated.

“Fine.”

Harry didn’t really believe him, but he was not about to push the issue, having no desire to be on the receiving end of the biting tongue of an embarrassed Draco Malfoy. Especially as he knew the blonde would just feel guilty about it later.

So it was that they were a far more sedate group taking a stroll around the grounds, but it was still better than returning inside where Smith was no doubt regaling the rest of the school with tales of furry mishaps.

~~~~~~~>

Harry was so distracted by dodging nosey students and keeping up with his coursework that he hardly noticed November flying by until it was only a few days before the mysterious First Task. He was reminded abruptly when his father took him aside after Potions and informed him that he was to meet him that night with his Invisibility Cloak. Harry hadn’t questioned the order, finding it hard to do more than keep breathing as the looming Task drew ever closer.

He’d received two important pieces of mail amongst the vast influx since that cursed article had come out. One was from Sirius, loudly exclaiming his dislike of Harry participating in the Tournament and expressing great worry over his well being and thoughts of the more sinister black plot obviously in play behind the entire farce. It actually made Harry smile a bit, to know that Sirius was so worried and determined to help him. Although that was tinged with guilt over forgetting to inform his godfather himself about it personally, he’d probably found out by way of the _Prophet_ because Harry had been so preoccupied he hadn’t even thought to write the man. He quickly remedied that and sent a reply filled with reassurances that Harry did not actually feel but that he knew Sirius needed to hear in any case. Which was its own sort of catharsis in itself.

The other was a reply from the Ministry about his inquiry. A thick scroll listing all know animagi in wizarding Britain, complete with descriptions of their shapes and colorings along with names. Sirius’ was there, near the bottom, as he’d been made to register. But not a hint of any Skeeter, Rita or otherwise. It was just as Harry suspected and he rolled the scroll back up with a satisfied smirk. Plans already solidifying.

That night he met his father in his quarters, Invisibility Cloak in his pocket so as not to overly trouble Jax’s sensitive nose. The serpent was sleeping at the moment, the cold weather beginning to take its yearly toll on him. Severus was in the sitting room, donning a heavy black cloak of his own and looking decidedly unamused.

“You’ll need to put that on before we leave, I do not want anybody to see you exiting the castle, or these quarters for that matter.”

Harry hadn’t thought anyone had seen him _enter_ them, but didn’t question it all the same, swinging the Cloak around his shoulders and watching as his own body disappeared completely. Severus nodded sharply, gesturing Harry to follow after him.

“It has been exceedingly difficult to glean any information about the First Task up until now. The creatures you are meant to be facing have just arrived this evening and I think it best to get a first hand look to better formulate a viable strategy to overcome what is demanded of you with as little collateral damage as possible.”

“Do you know what the Task is?” Harry asked quietly as he shuffled hurriedly to keep up with his father’s longer strides.

“Unfortunately, Dumbledore had not seen fit to inform me of the details.” Severus murmured, the words bitter and bordering on venomous. “He feels it would lead to an unfair advantage, further harming relations between the three schools.”

Harry felt his own lip curling in disgust, although he hardly needed more reasons to think less of Albus Dumbledore.

When they reached the entrance to the grounds, Severus glanced around swiftly before casting a spell on himself that made him fairly disappear into the background. It was very difficult to even catch a glimpse of movement, let alone distinguish an entire person. It was not as absolute as his Cloak, but there was no doubt the spell was masterfully cast.

A hand on his shoulder made Harry startle, “This way, I shall muffle our footsteps and voices but you would be wise to not make any undue noise.”

Harry nodded before realising that Severus wouldn’t be able to see it and murmured a quiet affirmation as well.

His father led them on a direct route down the main lawn and past Professor Hagrid’s hut and the paddock holding the massive abraxan horses, turning them unmistakably towards the Forbidden Forest and all manner of hidden terrors lurking therein. Harry supposed if he had to go in there then doing so in the presence of Severus Snape was probably his best case scenario.

They did not venture far inside at least, the tangled dark mass of trees adding to their cover as they crept carefully over loose bracken and shifting piles of dead leaves.

Ahead of them was the muffled sound of shouting, then a thunderous roar, followed by flashes of red light and more shouting.

When they finally broke out into a clearing Harry could not hold in his startled gasp as he tried to take a step back, only to collide with his father who renewed his grip on Harry’s invisible shoulders with tight fingers.

Dragons.

 _Dragons_.

Four of them, all giant and very angry looking. And _spewing fire_ at the group of people scrambling around them, firing spelling and shouting orders at one another. The largest dragon, one with wicked looking spikes sprouting at a frankly unnecessary frequency all along its body and tail, seemed especially irate and tried to take a bite out of a witch venturing too close. She nimbly jumped back and the dragon let out a frustrated roar, shooting another bout of fire into the air.

“All together now! She’s not going down otherwise!” A tall wizard shouted. “On three. One. Two. Three. _Stupify!_ ”

A half-dozen jets of red light hit the dragon from all direction and it finally collapsed onto the ground, breathing heavily but obviously unconscious. Despite knowing he was apparently supposed to face one of them head on, Harry could not help but feel a bit indignant on the dragon’s behalf. It probably didn’t want to be there any more than Harry did.

“Why they wanted nesting females, I’ll never know. They’re always the most vicious.” A semi-familiar voice said shaking a head of very-familiar red hair.

Severus squeezed his shoulders lightly, murmuring, “Wait here, quietly.”

Then, before Harry could so much as ask what he was doing, his father had dropped his hiding spell and was striding purposefully through the enclosure and towards the redhead.

“Charles Weasley.” He did not call out very loudly but that did not stop his voice from carrying across the clearing with authority. 

“Professor Snape, sir!” Charlie Weasley jumped to attention as if expecting a thorough scolding from the Potion Master. “Er, I don’t think you’re supposed to be here.”

Severus folded his arms and raised a single eyebrow, the other man flushed and ducked his head.

“I only mean, sir, that it’s supposed to be a surprise for everyone not directly involved.”

“I would say I am directly involved, Mr. Weasley. As my son, my _not of age_ son who has been unjustly forced into participating in this farce will evidently be made to fight one of these _beasts_.”

“Oh, erm, right.” Charlie rubbed the back of his neck and gave Severus a sheepish grin, “I guess that is different, then, sir. They aren’t fighting them though, just trying to get past them I’m pretty sure.”

“Oh is that all?” Severus replied dryly and Charlie shrugged, toeing the ground with a booted foot, the image of a chastised schoolboy despite his having left Hogwarts years previously to pursue the highly dangerous job of dragon keeper.

Harry supposed his father just tended to have that effect on people.

“Yeah, I swear. I wouldn’t be here otherwise. I’d never support dragon-baiting. Even just doing this bit for the Tournament is kind of pushing it. Dragons aren’t meant for sport.” Charlie seemed on the verge of building up a good head of steam himself, but Severus forestalled any incoming lecture with a sharp gesture.

“As you were then, Mr. Weasley.”

“Er, okay. Thank you, sir.” As he was walking back to where Harry was hiding, Charlie called out once more, a bit cheekily, “Mum says hi, by the way.”

His father rolled his eyes, but Harry was the only one who could see it. They left the clearing to the sounds of the other dragon keepers ribbing Charlie and the rumbling background noise of massive sleeping beasts. Harry’s mind was racing, how was he meant to get past a dragon? He was small, sure, but most things were when compared to the things he’d seen back in the forest. He was going to die.

A dragon was going to eat him and he was going to die.

“You are not going to die.” Severus’ deep voice cut through Harry’s panicking thoughts and it took a moment to realise that they had made it back into the castle, to his father’s quarters no less. The Cloak had been removed and draped over a chair and Harry was just standing there, hyperventilating on the hearthstones.

“Harry. Listen to me.” Severus touched Harry’s chin, gently forcing it up so that he met the man’s eyes fully. “You are not going to die. We will form a plan and execute it with precision. You are not alone in this.”

“Okay.” Harry agreed weakly.

“Okay.” His father echoed, far more convincingly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all, just wanted to drop a thank you once more to [Capucine9](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Capucine9/profile) who sent me the picture of [Pig and Jax](https://i.imgur.com/4F1gTpW.jpg) she drew that I was unable to link before, plus a bonus of [baby Jax](https://i.imgur.com/xeOC1zh.png) and one with a [cool background](https://i.imgur.com/0NHopsi.jpg), so thanks again!


	12. Chapter 12

“Let us proceeded under the assumption that you will only be allowed your wand.” Harry's father said calmly, as if this were a logic puzzle the man was setting him and not the very real inevitability of facing down a being capable of _eating_ him in a single vicious chomp.

“That does seem a reasonable assumption,” Harry muttered scathingly into his spiced tea, “why would they wish to make it easy on us?”

“Indeed.” Severus agreed dryly and they shared a commiserating glance that did much in the way of calming Harry's frazzled nerves.

“So, a wand. And your wits. Not an ineffectual pair of resources. You are a powerful wizard for your age and not unintelligent.”

Harry resisted the urge to preen like Jax but could not fully hide a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Could you teach me that invisibility spell you used?”

“Disillusionment Charm.” Severus corrected absently, staring intently into the low fire that burned in the hearth. “Undoubtedly, given more time. However, that is one thing we do not have in abundance. It is a fairly complex spell that takes a good deal of finesse to implement effectively, usually reserved for those taking Advanced Defense in sixth and seventh year.”

“My Cloak then?”

“You would not be able to take it with you into the Task and it repels all efforts of summoning. While a useful trait in any other circumstance it is an unfortunate hindrance here.”

Harry slumped in his chair, disappointed and trying not to let the creeping dread overcome him. They had been sitting in his father's quarters for the better part of an hour after having seen the dragons firsthand. Much of that time Harry had spent calming down. Clearing his mind of the overwhelming anxiety and slipping quietly at the spiced tea that Severus had procured for them at some point.

“We must concentrate on your strengths if we are to form a viable strategy in the time frame allotted us.” Severus mused, rubbing a finger over his top lip in an absent motion of contemplation.

As much as Harry felt the need to demure any talent he might possess he nevertheless pushed past that initial instinct to really think.

“I'm good a potions and Occlumency,” he replied slowly, “but I don't see how either of those help against _dragons_.”

“Hmm, no. Any useful concoction would have to be made in advance and therefore tip our hand too far to be reasonably explained away. Occlumency, whilst not directly a solution can still help you keep a clear and calm mind during the Task. An unquestionably useful aid. What else?”

“Erm, I'm alright at Transfiguration...” Although Harry suspected that was not a thing one wanted to be just _alright_ in, given the seriousness of the situation. He could also translate Ancient Runes nearly as well as Hermione Granger, but again, not very useful for sneaking past dragons. 

“And outside of classes?” His father raised an eyebrow pointedly and Harry frowned down at his tea, unsure.

He was well versed in making deals, the house elves and the Weasley twins evidence enough of that. However, somehow Harry doubted he’d be able to bribe his way out of participating. No matter how much the majority of the judges did not want him there in the first place. Miss Reid had unfortunately not been able to find much of anything useful in her search through the original contract.

The language used had been very plain and exacting with its stipulations and consequences. The old wizards that had drawn it up had left very little wriggle room or convenient loopholes. And as the age restriction had been added by the Ministry and not officially part of the rules, Harry had no recourse in following that line of protest to any significant end. That did not mean he was no about to do anything in response. Miss Reid was already pulling together a viciously brutal suit that, while Harry had no doubt it would be satisfying to see play out, did nothing to help him at the moment.

“I don’t know.” He answered honestly, feeling small and childish in the shadows of the other Champions. Who all had years of experience on him and probably much better grasps on their magic. “I’m not really good at anything else.”

“Of course you are,” Severus stated with a hint of dark amusement, “even that twice cursed godfather of yours could see it.”

“Sirius? What does he--?” then it hit Harry and he felt silly for not thinking of it himself, “You mean flying? But I can’t have my broom.”

Severus quirked another eyebrow at him and Harry flushed, “Summoning Charm, right.”

“Indeed. So,” he ticked off points on long, potion-stained fingers, “you will summon your broom, fly as quickly as possible past the hazard, and be finished with the First Task with no injuries to yourself or needless fuss.”

“Sounds great,” Harry agreed weakly, a nervous prickle edging it’s way down his spine, “just one problem.”

His father gave him a questioning look.

“I haven't really had much success with Summoning Charms,” Harry admitted, a flush of embarrassed shame heating his face. Charms had always been his most difficult subject.

“Then I suggest you spent what little remaining time we have until the First Task working to improve on that. This is the best possible plan, Harry.” Severus’ black eyes met his and he was relieved to see no disappointment lingering there, only intense determination and certainty. “You have mastered far more powerful magics than a simple Summoning Charm. I will assist you, as I am sure Miss Bulstrode will as well when I am unavailable.”

Harry nodded, finally starting to feel less adrift now that they had a plan. Goals to work towards instead of spending all of his energies worrying over whether his dragon would prefer to cook him first before eating or just snatch him up raw without even time to scream.

They had a plan. A simple one with little room for error. Harry just needed to concentrate.

“Thank you.” He managed to choke out past the nervous lump in his throat.

“Of course, son.” Severus murmured, levitating the kettle over to fill Harry’s empty cup with warm and fragrant tea, “Now, show me where you are struggling with the spell.”

~~~~~~~>

Harry deliberated with himself a good while before deciding to tell Cedric Diggory about the dragons. On the one hand, Hufflepuff House had been exceedingly vocal about their displeasure at Harry for apparently stealing their thunder leading to a very stressful past month and not leaving a very deep well of sympathy for the other Hogwarts Champion. On the other, Diggory had never been the one to say an unkind word to Harry and it was not his fault that he was mixed up in all of this in the first place. So perhaps Harry might be able to use his knowledge to leverage some understanding between them and maybe even buy himself a little peace in the process. He had enough to be getting on with without having to look over his shoulder for angry Hufflepuffs all day.

Getting Diggory alone proved to be more challenging than Harry had foreseen. The other boy always seemed to be surrounded by a group of friends and admirers. Eventually, he resorted to sending a severing jinx at his bag and waiting for him to wave off his friends as he knelt to gather his spilled things.

When he approached, Diggory sent him a disarmingly sincere smile as Harry bent down to help with the mess he’d caused.

“Hey, thanks. Stupid strap must have frayed, it was nearly new too.”

“I need to talk to you about something.” Harry was not in the mood for small talk and Diggory at least seemed to understand that as he gave Harry a nod, although his smile wavered a bit.

“I’m sorry about Zacharias,” the other boy said, cutting a look up at Draco who was scowling with folded arms beside Blaise, “I’ve told him to stop, but he’s a bit pigheaded.”

“It’s not about that, not specifically.” Harry said, although he was grateful for the acknowledgement at least. Draco had been having almost as bad a week as Harry at that point. “I know what the First Task is.”

“Do you? How?”

“It’s not important how. I’ll tell you if you promise to get the rest of your House to back down from harassing me and my friends. I never wanted to be in this Tournament and I think you know that. So I have no qualms about sharing this information with you in exchange for some peace of mind.”

“Of course, Harry.” Diggory looked at him with wide, guileless eyes. “I’ve been telling them from the beginning to lay off.”

“Well, they haven't listened very well then.”

Diggory flinched a bit at the words but Harry was past the point of feeling guilty for such things. He had bigger problems to contend with than the hurt feelings of pretty-faced Hufflepuffs, no matter how kind they might be.

“I’m sorry. I know. I’ll make sure they do so this time, even if you don’t tell me.” Diggory sounded so toothrottingly sincere that Harry nearly found himself wanting to pat the older boy on the head, he was like a puppy.

“It’s dragons.” He said instead, handing over a stack of slightly crumpled parchment. “We’ve got to get past them.”

Cedric Diggory went pale at the news, but there was a stiffness to his shoulders that spoke of determination.

“Dragons. Of course. Right.” Shoving the last of his books into his bag, Diggory held out a hand to Harry, “Thanks, I owe you one.”

Harry shook his hand after only the barest of hesitations, nodding.

“Good luck then.” Harry offered in return as they both stood and he was once more reminded just how much taller the Hufflepuff was than him.

“And you. I better get to class, else McGonagall’ll tear me a new one.” The chuckle he let out was a bit weak but real enough and Harry turned away himself to walk with Draco and Blaise to Arithmancy.

“That was cleverly done, Harry.” Blaise commented with a pleased looking smirk, Draco huffed.

“Perhaps. We’ll see if it actually helps.” He gave it even odds either way, but the information had been worth the shot. And Diggory had been more than receptive to listening to him at least.

If only his work on the Summoning Charm was going as well. He did not know if it was nerves or just a simple lack of talent that had him struggling, but Harry’d not made much progress in the last day. No matter the help from both his father and Millicent. He still had two full days before the First Task, which was not a lot of time but also better than no time at all. So he would just have to keep at it until he mastered the stupid charm or got eaten by a dragon. Whichever came first.

Over the course of the next couple days there was a noticeable drop in scathing comments from the yellow clad students. Diggory must have truly put an effort into reigning his House in, for which Harry was exceedingly grateful. Although Zacharias Smith was still buzzing around like an annoying, uppity, insect. Sending pointed jabs at both Harry and Draco whenever he was near enough to do so.

“He’s an arrogant prick.” Draco muttered, glaring down his own pointed nose at the retreating back of the other boy as Smith sauntered away after dropping his latest batch of insults their way. “Thinks he’s better than everyone because he can trace his family tree all the way back to Helga Hufflepuff.”

Draco was the authority on blood-based arrogance so Harry was inclined to believe the statement without much questioning.

“He’s not the only one here with Founder’s blood.” Harry commented, trying once again to summon a book across the library table, it twitched a bit but ultimately refused to move. “I bet Gryffindor is chock full of his descendants.”

“Not to mention _you_ , of course.” Draco commented dryly, easily drawing the book toward himself with a muttered _accio_. Harry scowled.

“Mine is barely a connection.” Harry protested, unwilling to be lumped into the same category as _Zacharias Smith_. “Ximen said it was faint, in any case.”

“But still there,” Draco countered, smirking, “and strong enough to give you Parseltongue. What does Smith have to show?”

Harry huffed and refused to answer, he didn’t want to talk about Smith. He wanted to manage the stupid Summoning Charm. It was ridiculous that he could wandlessly draw things to himself at will and had been able to do so since a very young age. But could not cast _accio_ to literally save his life. Although admittedly that was for things within line of sight and at very limited distances. Still, the theory should be the same and it was exceedingly frustrating that Harry was failing so spectacularly.

Thankfully Millicent arrived a moment later and forestalled any more chatter from Draco. She had been a lot of help, if blunt and a bit sharp worded in her tutelage. But Harry was used to that from Millicent and was simply grateful for the help.

It wasn’t until the very last hours of the final night before the First Task that Harry managed to cast a passable Summoning Charm. Causing a crumpled bit of parchment to go whizzing by his head in the common room and bounce off the nose of an irritated seventh year.

“Sorry.” Harry apologized, earning a scowl in return but thankfully not much else.

Millicent chucked him on the shoulder, “Good job, Harry. Now do it again.”

Soon all manner of books and throw pillows and spare quills were flying through the air, more or less accurately and Harry could not suppress the tired smile on his face. He just might manage to survive this after all.

~~~~~~~>

If not for his years of practicing Occlumency, Harry doubted he would have been able to get any sleep that night at all. Still, it seemed much too early when he woke the next morning. Or perhaps Harry just wished he did not have to face the day at all. His friends bracketed him throughout breakfast and to and from classes. As if they could protect him in any way from what was to come. Time seems to speed by that day, seemingly eager to force Harry into the jaws of a waiting dragon. He kept repeating the plan in his head. Summon broom. Fly past dragon. Don’t get burnt or eaten. Summon broom. Fly past dragon. Don’t get burnt or eaten.

It was a simple plan. Hard to mess up. His father had already assured him that his _Firebolt_ was placed in a convenient location, ready to be called. His friends had been murmuring encouragements to him all morning. It had not stopped the well of nervous energy from filling him near to the brim, nor stopped the visions of fiery death from splaying across his mind all throughout History of Magic. It took a great deal more effort than it had in a long while to clear his mind and begin Occluding, just to gain a modicum of peace.

When his father came to collect him for the Task, Harry merely followed mutely. He felt strangely out of sync with the world around him. As if he were watching some other messy-haired boy shuffle after the Potion Master to his doom.

“Harry,” Severus stopped them a good few paces from the large tent that had been erected on the grounds, “you will do well. You will follow the plan and nothing will hurt you.”

He sounded so sure that Harry wanted to simply believe him out of hand.

“You promise?”

His father gathered him into a stiff hug and Harry clung to him as if he could sap the man’s strength for himself through the dark layers of robes, he had a feeling Severus would give it willingly if he could.

“I love you, son. I know you will succeed in this.”

Harry let out a hiccupping sort of grunt and hugged his father tighter.

They parted a moment later as a horn sounded from some spot beyond the tent.

“You must go now, I will be watching.”

Harry nodded, unshouldering his satchel and holding it out to the man.

“Will you watch Jax for me? I don’t want him trying to follow after me.”

A displeased hiss sounded from the bag, proving Harry’s point for him.

“Of course. He will be safe with me.” The Potion Master cradled the bag in one arm and set his other hand on Harry’s shoulder. “You have faced down far greater challenges than this, Harry. All will be well.”

Harry managed a nod he did not actually believe and hissed a stern goodbye to his serpent before turning to the tent and taking the last few steps towards his unwilling fate.

Inside the tent were the three other Champions looking various shades of nervous and Mr. Bagman, who looked overly enthusiastic about the entire thing and held a velvet bag in one hand.

“And here is our last Champion! Good, good. Now I am sure you are all just dying to know what you will be facing here. So without further ado, Miss Delacour how about you first, hmm?”

He held the bag out to Fleur who flicked her curtain of hair before reaching a delicate hand into the bag and pulling out a tiny moving figurine of a green dragon with a number two around its neck. She did not look overly surprised at the sight, although her already pale skin went a shade or two lighter.

Viktor Krum’s was the bright red one with a number three and he had a similar non-reaction, if you counted slouching down into an even broodier pose than he had been sporting before as such.

So they had both known ahead of time as well, Harry thought. He was glad to have told Cedric then, it would have been horrible to be the only one out of the loop.

Diggory drew out a bluish-green model and was to go first which left Harry simultaneously relieved that he was going last and terrified at the fact that it seemed he was stuck with the largest and spikiest dragon of the lot.

Bagman clapped excitedly once they all had their selections. Harry’s was rearing up on his palm and miming a roar, it would be adorable if the implications were not so utterly alarming.

“Now, your Task will be to _get the egg_!” Bagman told them in a thrilled voice. “Your speed and technique will be taken into account when tallying scores so keep that in mind. Best of luck to you all and may the best Champion win!”

The man received a round of mute nods in return but did not seem off put by their collectively less than stellar reactions.

“When the horn sounds, Mr. Diggory, you’ll head out that opening and down the path a bit to the staging grounds. Miss Delacour will follow when you’ve finished and so on.” He smiled broadly at them all before scuttling out of the tent himself to presumably take up his own spot with the judges.

The four of them stood awkwardly together, each holding their fate in their hands. Listening to the tromping of feet pass by the tent, no doubt all the students come down to watch. Nobody said a word until the promised horn sounded and Cedric left with a slightly green tinge to his face.

There was a rush of loud cheering from the crowd as Bagman introduced Cedric and the dragon he was to face, a Swedish Short-Snout evidently. It was almost worse no being able to see what was happening, as Bagman’s commentary was filled with flowery embellishments coupled by the groans and claps and pained hisses from the crowd. Not to mention the unmistakable roar of a very irate dragon.

After about fifteen minutes, however, Diggery finally managed to get his egg to enthusiastic applause.

Fleur was next, up against a Welsh Green. She was trembling as she left the tent, but had her nose high in the air and thin shoulders squared in determination. She was faster than Cedric, though not by much. And Bagman’s commentary was equally unhelpful in calming the jangling nerves building in Harry. Maybe it wasn’t such a good thing to be going last after all.

When Krum left to tackle the Chinese Fireball, Harry gave up on standing completely. Collapsing onto a chair and concentrating on his breathing and shearing up his Occlumency walls to the exclusion of nearly all else. So distracted was he by the effort that Harry very nearly missed his cue. He pocketed the little toy dragon, who did not appreciate the treatment and thrashed a bit in his robe before settling, and walked on shaky legs down the path.

At the end of it was a great sunken basin surrounded by towering stands of spectators all cheering or booing or clapping. Harry ignored them all, having eyes only for the massively crouching form of the dragon at the end of the staging ground. She seemed even larger than she had when Harry had been spying from the bushes. Angrier too. If that was at all possible.

At her feet between viciously clawed paws that dug deep furrows in the ground was a clutch of large eggs, dark and speckled all except for the obvious outlier. A golden egg, shining in the midafternoon light. Harry forced himself to keep breathing.

“Last but certainly not least, our youngest Champion! Facing what might be our fiercest dragon yet, the Hungarian Horntail: Mr. _Harry Potter_.”

Harry found himself glaring up at the judges' table, seriously considering sending Bagman a rude gesture. The unexpected irritation enough to at least get Harry to stop simply standing there like an idiot. He would be having words with Mr. Bagman after taking care of this dragon business.

Shoving all his terror and hesitancy and uncertainty safely back behind his metal shields, Harry drew his wand and took a deep breath.

“ _Accio Firebolt!_ ”

The fact that there was a goal outside of simply getting past the Horntail did not do much in the way of changing his plan. Flying was still his best bet and he still needed his broom. Harry just hoped the last few days of nonstop practice had paid off. Otherwise he would be standing there with his wand in the air looking for all the word just like the stupid kid he was.

Before the dark thoughts could attempt to overwhelm him, he heard a faint whistling from behind him and turned his head just enough to see his beautiful broom zooming at breakneck speed through the air towards him. Harry dropped his arm in relief and the _Firebolt_ came to a neat stop right next to him, hovering excitedly at his hip.

There was an enthusiastic round of cheering from the crowd as Harry swung aboard but he blocked them and Bagman’s loud commentary from his attentions. He rose up and crept toward the dragon, one hand on his broom the other still clutching his wand firmly.

The Horntail watched him with suspicious, beady eyes, lashing out a warning with her wings and crouching down further over her eggs. Harry could not help but feel indignant once more on the dragon’s behalf. She did not want to be there, not with her eggs and certainly not surrounded by a multitude of loud, irritating humans.

A spurt of fire shot past Harry, but it was obviously a warning shot and didn’t come close to hitting him. He swerved to the side in any case, inching ever forward.

She roared, whipping her spiked tail through the air and Harry flinched, nearly dropping his wand.

How was he meant to get past her defenses? Let alone unscathed. She was a mother trying to protect her young and Harry was a threat. A tiny one, but a threat nonetheless.

He weaved through the air a moderately safe distance away, out of tail reach by not flame, thinking hard. He could try and dart down, the _Firebolt_ was fast, but the vicious curve of her claws gave him pause. He could try and lure her away from the nest, but Harry doubted he made so enticing a snack to leave her eggs unguarded.

What then?

A thought occurred. A crazy, _insane_ , thought.

If it worked though...

Harry stilled his swaying flight and rose high enough to lock eyes with the dragon, creeping just a hair closer before opening his mouth and shouting as loud as he could.

“ _Hello! I’m sorry about all this! I’m sure you don’t want to be here any more than I do!_ ” The words came out harsher than Harry was expecting, dragging from his throat as if barbed in shards of glass. It was not like speaking with Jax at all, where syllables were smooth and flowing over one another. No, this was more like screaming out every word in jagged stutters and Harry highly doubted he’d be able to replicate it were he not staring an actual dragon in the face.

The Horntail blinked her massive eyes and reared back, Harry feared a bout of incoming fire, but the dragon just seemed more confused than anything.

“ _Why?! Why have you brought me and my brood here, tiny bird?!_ ” She roared in reply and Harry was so startled he nearly fell off his broom. The words were difficult to make out around the growling and anger, but they were unmistakably there.

“ _I didn’t! It was not me!_ ” Shouting seemed to be the only timber in which Harry was able to force the rough language out of his throat and he was already dreading the consequences that would no doubt follow in the wake of his ridiculous idea. “ _I only want to leave as well!_ ”

“ _Then why do you not? Why buzz around, threatening my nest?!_ ” She flared her wings again warningly, “ _I should eat you!_ ”

Harry gulped and reaffirmed his grip on both broom and wand.

“ _I probably wouldn’t taste very good! I’ve no meat on my bones!_ ”

The dragon snorted, a spout of flame curling up from one large nostril, but Harry found himself shifting a fraction closer. It had been an amused snort, he was sure. Harry had spent long enough around Millicent Bulstrode to be a deft hand at deciphering those sorts of things.

“ _Leave then! And perhaps I will spare you!_ ”

“ _I can’t!_ ” Harry shouted, “ _They are making me do this! They are the ones who brought you here and planted a false egg in your nest! I only want to take it away and then we can both leave!_ ”

“ _Impossible!_ ” She snapped out her tail again, the long spins whistling threateningly through the air. “ _These are my eggs! My brood! I will not allow anything near them! I will rip apart any creature foolish enough to try!_ ”

“ _I know! I don’t want to go near them!_ " Harry insisted, not wavering from his spot, he could do this. He knew it. “ _You can check for yourself! There is an imposter in your nest! I only wish to free you from it!_ ”

The Horntail narrowed her eyes at him but crouched low once more over her eggs, carefully caressing each one with a delicate touch of claw. When she got to the golden egg she let out an outraged roar that held no words and quite a lot of flames.

“ _What is this trickery?! Who has tampered with my nest?!_ ”

“ _I don’t know!_ ” Harry fibbed, “ _But if you give me that egg, I will take it far away and you will be able to raise your true nest in peace!_ ”

She huffed and shook her massive spined head, but eventually snatched up the golden egg between foot-long claws and stretched to her impressive full height; holding it delicately out to Harry. Who had to fly in rather close to the dragon in order to retrieve the large egg. And also stow his wand in the process as he needed a free hand to hold it.

On impulse, Harry reached up and scratched the dragon under the chin, just as Ximen had liked. She was far warmer than the basilisk and smelled strongly of sulfur and brimstone. A rumbling growl built up under his hand and Harry nearly snatched it back to make a run for it before he realised it was a pleased sound and he scratched harder; a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth in spite of it all.

He didn’t linger overlong, however, as Harry doubted the dragon had much more patience left. And it took until he landed at the other end of the enclosure to realise it wasn’t just that he was blocking out the noise of the crowd, they had in point of fact gone dead silent of their own accord. Harry stood awkwardly juggling his broom and the egg wondering what he was supposed to do next.

“Ah,” Ludo Bagman’s magically enhanced and slightly bewildered voice finally broke the silence, “in an unorthodox but nonetheless impressive display, our Slytherin Champion seems to have, ah, _negotiated_ his egg away from his dragon. Let’s hear it for him folks!”

A roar rose up from the green and silver section of seats followed by more applause from the rest of the crowd as people seemed to get over their shock and confusion. Harry flushed and ducked his head, it had been a stupid idea. What kind of person tries to _talk_ his way out of a fight with a dragon? No wonder everyone had been so quiet.

“Now let’s see what our judges have to say!”

Harry looked up from contemplating the dirt and how he’d like to sink into it and disappear forever to the judges' row. Madame Maxime went first, shooting a flick of silver out of her wand after a moment that resolved itself into a figure eight and Harry blinked in surprise. Assuming it was out of ten, that was actually pretty good.

Crouch gave him a nine, which was more surprising to him than actually being able to talk to the dragon had been.

Dumbledore also gave him a nine that Harry had a hard time believing was completely unbiased.

Bagman himself threw up a solid ten and Harry blinked in surprise, surely what he had done had been way too far out of left field to deserve full marks.

Karkaroff thankfully brought some sanity back into it by awarding Harry four entire points, which also seemed a bit biased a ruling but at least believable to him.

“An impressive series of events all around, folks! Thank you all for joining us! If the Champions would please reconvene at the tent, you will be given instructions for the next Task.”

There was a final round of applause but Harry was already mounting his broom once more to zip back up the path and away from the crowd as quickly as possible.

Inside the tent, Cedric Diggory had half his face covered in bright orange burn salve but grinned when he saw Harry.

“That was brilliant! I didn’t know you could talk to dragons as well.”

Harry shrugged sheepishly, toeing the dirt, “I didn’t either, to tell the truth.” He admitted. “I was pretty relieved when it worked, don’t know what I would have done otherwise.”

“It vas a good idea,” Viktor Krum’s deep voice sounded from Harry’s left, his robes were slightly scorched, but he looked otherwise unharmed, “the broom. I vish I had thought of it.”

Harry felt his cheeks warming again, unused to so much praise, “I’m sure you would have done a lot better than me if you had.”

Krum shrugged but before he could say anything else Bagman burst through the tent flaps with his usual buoyant enthusiasm.

“Great job everyone! Very impressive all around! Now, you have a bit of a break before the Second Task, it’s not until February. Which should give you plenty of time to decipher your clue.” He clapped once, grinning madly at them all.

“What clue?” Cedric asked, which was a relief because Harry had not wanted to be the one to do so.

“The egg of course! It should be great fun. I can’t wait!” They all boggled at him as he bustled around the tent, shaking hands and congratulating them individually. Harry took the first possible opportunity to slip out the back. He was in no mood for idle chit-chat, especially as his throat was making its displeasure at being thrashed so thoroughly well know. What he needed was a cup of lemon tea and a soothing tonic before he lost the ability to speak completely.

His path was halted almost immediately however by a crowd of his friends and his father, apparently lying in wait knowing he would try and slip out the back.

“Harry,” a slightly ashen faced Blaise said weakly, placing both hands on his arms and squeezing, “is it too much to ask that you not make friends with every single monstrous being that crosses your path?”

“Erm...” was about all he could manage before Blaise was tugging him into a hug so fierce it was sure to wrinkle the boy’s own robes and made Harry drop his broom, although he managed to keep ahold of his hardwon egg.

“ _Idiota_ ,” Blaise mumbled against the top of his messy head, “do not ever do that again.”

“I’ll try.” Harry rasped, awkwardly returning the embrace with his one free arm. Relieved when Blaise relinquished his hold, only for it to be replaced by Draco, who was edged out by Neville a moment later.

“That was so frightening to watch, Harry.” The Gryffindor said, looking wide-eyed and frazzled. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

“I’m fine.” Harry tried to say, although it came out more of a wheeze, which seemed signal enough for his father to finally step in, looking far paler than he had when wishing him luck before the Task.

“I believe I have some tonic in my stores,” he murmured, placing a protective arm around Harry and steering him, and by association the entire group, up towards the castle.

Jax slithered his way from the perch he had made of the Potion Master’s shoulders down into Harry’s arms, coiling over the golden egg to nuzzle under Harry’s chin.

“ _I was worried for you. You should have let me come._ ”

“ _Then I would have been too worried for you and we would have both been eaten._ ” Harry reasoned, the sibilate Parseltongue coming far easier to him than English or the dragon-speech at the moment.

“ _I would have protected you._ ”

Harry stoked over Jax’s smooth scales, trying to soothe his friend. Millicent nudged his side as they walked, giving him an encouraging nod.

“That was good spellwork, I knew you could do it.”

Harry returned the nod, even managing a small smile. He was just relieved it was over. At least until February.


	13. Chapter 13

The next few days following the First Task were some of the most surreal of Harry’s life. On the one hand, the Hufflepuffs had finally completely ceased in their efforts to agitate him. On the other, the majority of the school seemed to be suffering under the misapprehension that Harry was now about to command down the wrath of dragons upon them. It was a bit amusing at first but quickly grew tiring.

 _Honestly,_ Harry groused as a group of little first years scrambled to get out of his way in the corridor, _you talk to one dragon..._

It had not helped in the least that Rita Skeeter had published a highly _interpretive_ version of the events. Not only making it seem as if Harry had been compelling his dragon to fly circles around the arena and menace the crowd with bouts of flame and ruin. But once more insinuating that Harry had fallen far, far, down from the tree of his birth parents.

It was utter rubbish that anyone who had actually _witnessed_ the Task could dispute instantly, but that did not seem to matter to the renewed influx of mail he started to receive at breakfast. Or even overly impressionable students who would rather ignore what their eyes had seen for the more exciting story. Harry hardly bothered to open anything that was not addressed to him from a someone he already knew. He had no use for dithering hate mail or long, pitying scrolls on how he should have been such a _nice_ boy. And what would his _parents_ think if they could see him now?

Harry knew what his father thought and it was nothing so scathingly disappointed as the majority of the public seemed to hope.

Of course they were not talking about Severus Snape when they mentioned Harry’s parents. But again, that was hardly Harry’s fault.

So he ignored the letters and pondered heavily on his plans for Skeeter the next time he saw the woman.

There was also the matter of the egg to consider.

Directly after the First Task, Harry, his father, and his friends had convened in Severus’ quarters. It had seemed natural to Harry to follow the Potion Master down into the dungeons and through the familiar hidden door. He had been a bit more concerned about getting something soothing for his throat at the time.

Although once he had his cup of lemon tea and had downed a vial of tonic he did note with some amusement the slightly bug-eyed look Neville had about him as he hunched in a corner of the room, evidently a bit gobsmacked to be in the personal quarters of a teacher. And the Potion Master’s at that. Draco passed the Gryffindor a cup of his own with a somewhat teasing smirk and that got Neville to at least loosen up enough to roll his eyes at the blonde, even if it was clear he was still highly uncomfortable with the unexpected circumstances.

Harry could see his father hiding his own amused smirk and wondered faintly just what his life had become that this was the reaction garnered from the man so usually abhorrent of any extended company into his personal space. It sent a frisson of warmth through Harry that Severus was willing to put up with it for his sake. Or perhaps he just liked to watch others squirm. It was probably some combination of the two. Harry was grateful either way because it meant he was not alone at the moment. 

“So what is this great clue the egg is supposed to hold?” Blaise asked, standing next to Harry with his own cup of steaming tea and looking much less frazzled than he had out on the grounds.

Harry shrugged, turning the ornate golden egg over in his hands. It was hefty but obviously hollow and upon closer inspection there were a pair of hinges on one side.

Jax stretched down to flick his tongue curiously at the egg and there was a surprising lack of sneezing afterward. So if there was magic to the contraption (likely), it was either not very strong or of a nature that did not interfere too much with the serpent’s sensitive nose.

“Should I open it?”

Millicent, Draco, and Neville had all shuffled over to peer down at the egg as well.

“That does seem the prudent next step.” Severus murmured dryly, one eyebrow hitched up ever so slightly.

Harry shrugged again and handed his teacup to Blaise so that he could pry the golden egg open.

Only to nearly drop it as a horrendous screeching filled the room. Jax reared back, hissing, but Harry couldn’t make out any words over the cacophony from the egg. He could hazard a guess that they were not very polite in nature, however. Harry quickly shoved the thing closed again, wincing as his ears were now ringing in addition to his sore throat and rattled nerves.

Both Blaise and Millicent were wincing and Neville had dropped his own cup in alarm and was now darting panicked looks between its shattered form spreading pale tea across the rug and the Potion Master. Draco huffed and rolled his eyes, cleaning the mess up himself with a couple muttered spells and a few flicks of his wand. Neville gave the blonde one of his ridiculously open grins and Draco sniffed, rolling his eyes again. But Harry could tell he was pleased with himself nonetheless.

Severus had not seemed to notice the fallen cup in any case, as his black eyes were trained heavily on the now silent egg cradled in Harry's hands.

“ _The fuck was that?_ ” Jax hissed testily, narrowing his own purple eyes down at the offending object. “ _I don’t even want to eat it now_.”

Harry let out a surprised snort, winced at the pull on his throat, and hefted the egg once more.

“I don’t think eating it was ever an option, buddy.” For many reasons, the least of which being Jax’s size in comparison to the thing.

Jax bobbed his head in an agitated manner as the rest of them sans Severus let out various noises of amusement.

“Why a screaming egg, though?” Draco asked, “What kind of clue is that?”

“It wasn’t screaming, really,” Harry replied after retaking his cup and downing a soothing sip, “more like screeching, yelling.”

It hadn’t been a pained sound, only loud and discordant. Still, it was not much to go on.

His father made a musing noise, still staring at the egg, but did not add any theories for consideration.

“Perhaps,” he said instead, “we should examine it another time. It has been a trying day.”

Harry could not dispute that and gladly handed the egg off to his father for the moment. Having spent the last week in a constant state of low-level panic, it would be nice to think of something other than the Triwizard Tournament.

When they eventually left his father’s quarters and parted ways with Neville (who still seemed a bit flabbergasted at being there in the first place) to head to the common room, it was to find the place in full swing of a raucous party in Harry’s honor that did not actually seem to need him present to start. Although when he did enter there was an explosive cheer and Harry found himself being patted on the back and congratulated heartily by the usually more subdued House. There were butterbeers being passed around, with stronger options circling through the older years. Various foodstuffs piled on every surface of the room and not a few couples getting far too handsy with each other in armchairs or on the sofas, or simply the alcoves between bookshelves.

It was a lot of unexpected noise and contact and attention and Harry was infinitely grateful when his friends closed ranks around him and (led by Millicent) shouldered their way through the mass and to the dorms. Which were decidedly empty and once the door closed, muffled against the noise.

“Savages, the lot of them.” Blaise sniffed, although Harry noticed he’d managed to snag a few drinks and snacks on their push through.

Harry carefully stowed the egg in his trunk before finally settling on his bed with a relieved sigh. Blaise passed him a butterbeer and Harry nodded a thanks.

A wriggling in his pocket drew his attention a moment later and Harry fished out the little facsimile of the Hungarian Horntail, its mood had not seemed to improve with confinement and it lashed out with its tiny tail. Harry tugged the small number four sign off from 'round its neck and stroked along the least spiky part of its length with a finger. The dragon settled down somewhat before spreading its wings and taking off from the platform of Harry’s hand to perch on the top of one of his bedposts and glare down at all of them like the world's most minute gargoyle.

~~~~~~~>

As much as Harry wished things would go back to normal he could have gladly done without the news that finally tore the students' attention away from him.

His father called a House meeting midway through the week, garnering no small amount of speculation about the cause. He stood before them, as severe and imposing as that very first night in the castle all the way back in Harry’s first year. Whatever it was the Potion Master was about to tell them, it could not be any kind of good news.

“It is my duty to inform you that due to the _festive_ nature if the Triwizard Tournament,” Severus sneered a bit, “there is to be a Yule Ball over the winter holidays.”

Excited whispers broke out immediately and were just as quickly silenced by cutting gesture and glare from their Head of House.

“Attendance is open to fourth year and above, although you may invite a younger guest if you so choose. I am sure that I need not remind you that any _untoward_ comportment on any of your parts will bring with it severe consequences. I will not have Slytherin House behaving in any way crass or undignified. Dress robes are mandatory and I expect each and every one of you to present yourselves with the dignity and pride inherent to our House.”

He leveled a narrow glare out across the entire common room, as if daring just one of them to step a toe out of line so that he might make an example of the fool. Then his gaze landed on Harry and softened just fraction.

“A moment, Mr. Snape.” His father said with a beckoning gesture of one hand and some small layer of satisfaction in the order addressed to Harry by his so recently acquired surname.

Harry stepped away from his spot between Blaise and Millicent and followed Severus from the room and down to his office, which was closer than his quarters.

Harry settled warily in one of the stiff backed chairs while his father sat in his place behind the oaken desk and steepled his long fingers before him.

Harry did his best not to squirm. Why did he need to be singled out after that announcement?

“Is this about my latest essay?” He tried, it couldn’t hurt to eliminate possibilities. And his last bit of homework _had_ been a bit less thorough than usual. What with the stress of the upcoming Task.

“Unfortunately not.” Severus replied dryly and Harry gave a tiny shrug, it was worth a try. “As much as we may not wish it, you are technically a Triwizard Champion and therefore are required to attend this Yule Ball.”

“Alright...” Harry sent a questioning look across the desk, “it wasn’t as if I was going anywhere for the holidays in any case.” He could spend one night standing awkwardly in a corner while everyone around him did whatever was done at balls. 

“You misunderstand,” Severus murmured, “you must join the other Champions in opening the ball with the traditional first dance.”

Harry felt his eyes widen, “I have to _dance_ with them?”

“No, Harry. You will be dancing with your _date_.”

Harry started shaking his head immediately, “What? No. A date? No.”

“Yes. A date. One with which you will dance for the singular song at the very least.”

“Can’t I just fight another dragon?” Harry suggested weakly, that seemed a far easier prospect.

“Regrettably not, it is a stipulation of the Goblet’s contract that can not be ignored.” His father was smirking ever so slightly now and Harry got the impression that the entire situation was mildly amusing to him. “I am sure you will have little trouble in overcoming this harrowing obstacle, although I would try and not leave it until the last possible second.”

Harry hunched down in his chair a bit, that had been his plan and he should have known his father would call him on it instantly. His cheeks felt warm even thinking about asking anyone to a _ball_. It was ridiculous. They were already making him faces dragons and unknown screeching beings and whatever other monstrosities that lay ahead. Now they expected him to _dance_? With another _person_?

How was he even meant to go about that?

Harry left his father’s office feeling a bit queasy and a lot apprehensive. This sort of thing was simply so far out of his wheelhouse that Harry did not know the first thing to do. Dragons and basilisks and invisible stalkers he could deal with, but _dating_?

Back in the common room, the entire House was abuzz with excitement and a glance at the list of students that planned to stay over the holidays pinned to the notice board showed more names than Harry had ever seen in all his years at Hogwarts combined. There was giggling from groups of girls and boys teasing each other over crushes and speculations about who was going with who. Harry did his best to ignore it all, his face still uncomfortably warm as he made a beeline for his dorm.

Blaise and Draco intercepted him halfway across the room but didn’t halt his progress.

“Exciting isn’t it? I shall, of course, be writing Mother that I will be unable to return to the manor this year.” Draco chattered, “I should have known there would be something like this when I saw dress robes on the school list.”

“What did Snape want?” Blaise asked, and Harry could see he too was excited by the prospect of a Yule Ball as the other boy was not so much smirking in his usual fashion but had a small smile curving his mouth just a tick upwards. This ball would no doubt be a vast improvement on the ones Signora Zabini would drag him to back in Italy.

“He said I have to find someone to dance with...” Harry managed to choke out, as if the words themselves were a death sentence.

And there was the smirk back, but Harry couldn’t even find it in himself to glare up at his friend. Even as Draco started snickering off to the side.

~~~~~~~>

As it turned out, the populous of Hogwarts seemed ever ready to overlook any rumors circulating about Harry’s apparent ability to summon dragons if it meant they could attend the Yule Ball with him. He was constantly being stopped in the corridors once more, only this time it had nothing to do with whispered insults or threats, but the much more frightening prospect of girls asking _him_ out. He had been under the impression that things were supposed to go the other way round. But no, the very next day he was halted by a sixth year Gryffindor girl that he’d never even met before (and was at the very least a head taller than him and broader in the shoulders as well) fairly barking out a request that Harry take her to the ball. Harry had been so startled that he’d only managed to blurt out a hasty _no_ before turning on his heel and heading in the exact opposite direction that he needed to be going, at speed. Millicent had sniggered at him all the circuitous way to History of Magic and Harry spent the entire class hiding his red face behind his textbook.

The Gryffindor girl had not been the last by far, and in the following weeks leading up to the Yule Ball he found himself missing the hissed insults and glare more and more. At least he knew how to deal with those.

It was obvious that none of the people who asked really wanted to go with _Harry_. They just wanted to go with a Triwizard Champion. How was he supposed to find a date with that hanging over his head?

It was all so stupid.

“Who are you taking?” He asked Blaise, who Harry was sure had a date the instant the ball was announced. The other boy always seemed to have a date handy.

“Nobody yet.” Was the surprising reply as he stirred a single measure of sugar into his morning coffee. “I’m waiting for the right person to ask.”

“Oh?” Harry glanced around the Great Hall, wondering who he meant, “Do you have your eye on someone?”

It was easier to concentrate on other’s plans than to think about his own lack of options.

Blaise sent him a wink over his coffee, “Yes. I’m sure it will only be a matter of time before they come around.”

“Good luck, then. I bet they’ll ask soon.” Harry fiddled absently with his toast, not really noticing the sigh from across the table.

“Well _I_ have a date.” Draco bragged, smearing honey over a steaming scone.

Harry rolled his eyes, Draco had been looking extra smug lately and Harry was not really in the mood to be regaled by tales of the blonde’s love life, if only because once he got started Harry was sure Draco would not cease until the actual party in three weeks time.

Thankfully Millicent forestalled that by cutting in with a, “Big deal, so do I. It’s not that impressive a feat.”

Their end of the table boggled a bit at her, it had never occurred to Harry that Millicent would even want to go to the ball, let alone already have a date lined up. Now he was really feeling the pressure.

When it became clear that Harry was turning down all the girls that came up to him, boys started trying their luck. And if anything, that was worse. Because it was easy to say no to the girls after a while, but Harry always found himself flushing an absurd amount when a boy came up, smiling shyly or confidently or just any way at all.

Harry still turned them all down. It was like a compulsion now, he didn’t know how to respond any other way. It was counterintuitive to his required goal, but Harry just could not bring himself to say yes to any of them.

“You sure?” A handsome fifth year Ravenclaw asked, looking down at Harry through half-closed eyes, “I’m an excellent dancer.”

“Er, yeah. Sorry.” Harry mumbled at his boots, feeling the heat prickling the tips of his ears uncomfortably.

The Ravenclaw shrugged and turned to Blaise next to him, “How ‘bout you, Zabini? You got a date yet?”

“I’ve something in the works, Miller.” Blaise smirked and the Ravenclaw sighed dramatically but left with a friendly enough wave.

“You’re mystery person still hasn’t asked?” Harry inquired, if only to distract himself from his own embarrassment.

“Oh, I’m sure it will happen any day now.” Blaise took him by the elbow and steered them up the corridor, “Now come along, or we’ll be late for Arithmancy.”

It didn’t occur to Harry until later that day that there was another glaring issue with the entire Yule Ball business.

“I don’t know how to dance.” He blurted out. Thankfully he was back in the dorms and only Draco, Blaise, and Millicent were there to hear him. Jax was asleep in a nest of heated blankets on his bed.

The three of them looked at Harry for a moment as if he had two heads. Harry really couldn’t blame them, all of them were purebloods and had probably had dancing lessons since they could walk. The closest Harry ever got to that was dodging out of the way of Dudley's fists.

“What am I supposed to do with no date and no idea how to dance? That’s the whole purpose of this thing!” Harry may have been panicking a little, it was all so much and nothing of it familiar to him in the least. How was he the only one freaking out about this ball?

Sure Ron Weasley had been complaining about his own lack of a date but it wasn’t as vital that Ron be accompanied by someone. And he was a pureblood as well and also probably knew how to dance.

“Harry, calm down.” Blaise was suddenly next to him, a comforting hand on his shoulder and Harry managed to get his heaving breath under control. “This is an easy fix. I can teach you.”

“Really?” Harry looked up at his friend with probably a ridiculous amount of hope and desperation given the indulgent look Blaise was sending him.

“Of course. Here, wait a moment.” He went to Harry’s bedside table and fished out his walkman, rummaging around in the drawer until he found an acceptable tape. With a tap of his wand and a murmured word music started pouring out at a volume easily heard by the rest of the room.

It was one of the instrumentals that Harry had used to help him with his Occlumency, full of sweeping violins and tumbling percussion.

Blaise set the walkman on the closed lid of his trunk and held a hand out to Harry, who only hesitated a moment before taking it. He was unsure what to do with his other one but Blaise arranged them for him with ease. Placing Harry’s other hand up on his shoulder and laying his own low on Harry’s waist. 

“Let’s assume that you’ll be the shorter of the pair,” He teased lightly and Harry couldn't even bring himself to glare as it was probably true, “so you’ll be following. Which is fortunate, as it is much easier to learn than lead.”

Blaise had them step a slow route across the aisle between the rows of beds, most of which Harry spent staring down at his boots in concentration as he tried to match his movement to the beat of the waltz. A gentle squeeze at his side had them turning and heading back down the flagstones.

“Look up, don’t stare at your feet, it makes it harder to keep time.”

“I’ll step on your toes...” Harry protested, he hand in Blaise’s darker one felt a bit clammy and he really would prefer not to have to look his friend in the face as he stumbled his way through the impromptu lesson.

“Eyes up, Harry.” Blaise insisted, smoothly turning them once more.

Harry looked up. Blaise wasn’t smirking thankfully, but smiling softly as they made use of what little space the dorm provided. Blaise’s brown eyes were warm as they met Harry’s and he was once more reminded how shiny and soft the curls tumbling down around his face looked.

“Good. One, two, three. One, two, three.” Blaise murmured under the rhythm of the music and Harry did his best to follow along.

He did trod on Blaise’s toes, more than once, but Blaise didn’t call him out on it. When the tape had run its course Harry stumbled at the sudden silence that permeated the dorm. He was standing much closer to his friend than when they had started out and Harry quickly dropped his hands and stepped back, feeling oddly flushed. But that could have just as well have been from all the dancing.

A furtive glance around the room showed him that both Draco and Millicent had left at some point without his noticing and that just made Harry feel all the more awkward.

“Um, thanks. That really helped.” He told Blaise, going over to gather his walkman so he didn’t have to look at his friend.

“I’m glad. Then you won’t be opposed to more lessons? There is much more to it than the simple steps I showed you here. Although,” Blaise sent the room a dismissive glance, “we should really find a more open space to practice.”

“Sure, alright. Sounds good.” Harry didn’t understand why the words were falling out of his mouth quite without his permission, but then Blaise was smiling again. And his teeth were very white and eyes so warm. Harry found he could not take the words back.

So Harry found himself spending quite a number of evenings during the next two weeks having awkward dancing lessons with Blaise that were only really awkward at the beginnings and end. The middle was actually not so bad, once Harry was able to get into the rhythm of things and not think about how silly he must look stumbling over what should be simple steps. And being distracted by odd things, like the soft reflection of torchlight over Blaise’s curls or how warm his hand was in Harry’s, or the firm grip his kept on his side except for that time Blaise had attempted to spin him and they had both ended up in a heap on the floor. At least that had got them laughing and Harry could ignore the awkwardness for a moment.

It was only four days until the Yule Ball and Harry had still not acquired a date. He was getting a bit frantic about it, which had him stepping on his friend’s toes far more often than usual.

“I mean, people are _still_ coming up to me and I just keep say no.” Harry lamented as Blaise took them in a sweeping arch around the empty classroom they had found to serve their needs. “I’ll have to say yes to someone eventually. I know that. I just... I don’t know.”

“You don’t have to say yes to anybody, Harry.” Blaise said, squeezing his side gently in a signal to turn and slide, “Have you considered _asking_ someone yourself?”

Harry shook his head, that was almost an even more frightening idea.

“Has your hopeful asked you yet?”

“Alas, I fear they are more hard headed than I first anticipated.” Blaise sighed, pulling Harry close and then pushing them apart at the next beat, “I have faith he’ll come around eventually.”

“Oh. Maybe _you_ should do the asking.” Harry suggested, if only to give his friend a bit of his own medicine, “It’s getting pretty close to the ball.”

Classes had officially ended a few days previous and the castle was still as full as ever. Harry had never seen so many people electing to stay over the holidays. Even many the younger students that weren’t allowed to come to the Yule Ball unless invited by someone were staying. It was all a bit surreal. The halls were lined in garlands and wreaths hung over every door. There was an overabundance of mistletoe just laying in wait to entrap awkward couples into shy kisses to the inevitable ribbings of their classmates.

Which reminded Harry a bit of last winter, when Luna Lovegood had warned him against nargles hiding among the sprigs.

“I wonder if Luna’s going. She’s only in third year, I bet she’d agree to go as friends.” Harry mused aloud, she seemed like the kind of person that would actually understand that Harry would really mean it when he said _as friends_.

Blaise was the one to stumble then and Harry blinked in surprise, “Are you alright?”

Blaise had stopped them both completely even though Harry knew there was at least another three minutes left on the current track.

“Harry,” his friend groaned, rolling his eyes at the ceiling so hard that Harry was mildly worried they might roll all the way back like Professor Moody’s mad one, “you obtuse _idiota_ , you are not to take Lovegood to the Yule Ball.”

“Why not?” Harry asked, bemused. Only to have Blaise start muttering again in Italian, too low for Harry to hear over the music, “Blaise, what--?”

Then there were hands on his face and Harry was being pulled upwards and...

And _kissed_.

Harry stood shocked still for a solid three seconds before he managed to make a startled noise against Blaise’s mouth. Because that’s where it was, pressed against Harry’s own and showing no sign of moving away.

Did Harry even want it to? What was _happening_? What about the boy Blaise had been waiting on for the last few weeks?

Oh.

Oh, sweet Merlin.

Harry really was an idiot.

He closed his eyes and let Blaise kiss him and after another panicked moment attempted to return the gesture as best he could figure. Blaise hummed against his mouth, pulling Harry closer, and it was weird but he went with it anyway. His heart was racing and heat flooded his face but still Harry did not step back.

Blaise’s curls were just as soft as he’d imagined.


	14. Chapter 14

The relief that Harry felt at finally having a date to the Yule Ball was short-lived, as it was quickly replaced by anxiety over not knowing exactly what Blaise was playing at.

Not that Harry thought his friend was playing with him. Or insincere in his desire to accompany him. Blaise was never anything but genuine and kind to all of the people he dated.

But that was just it. Blaise had dated before. Quite a number of times in fact. Although Harry had never noticed any of them to last more than a few weeks, a month at most. And what did that mean for Harry?

Was this just for the ball? Did Blaise want more?

Did _Harry_?

Thinking about it gave mixed results. It all just seemed too big, too unknown.

Too _scary_.

Harry was not comfortable being close with other people, emotionally or otherwise. He was getting better about it, he knew. He could tolerate hugs most days and even initiate one if the situation seemed dire enough to necessitate the action. He was far and away more settled than he had been in first year. And it _was_ Blaise. He had known Blaise from that very first train ride. Had been through hardships and nightmares and uncertainties with the other boy that at once made this entire idea easier and more difficult to accept.

Blaise had seen him at his worst. But he was still there. Had still... kissed Harry in that empty classroom.

And Harry had not hated the kissing. Not really. It had been weird and new and more than a little frightening. But he had not hated it.

Blaise had also not made him actually verbally _ask_ him to the Yule Ball. They had just seemed to come to an unspoken understanding and Harry was more than okay with that.

It did not stop him from wrestling with his squirming insides and insecurities over dinner as he pushed curry covered rice around his plate and did his best not to let his inner turmoil show all over his face. Then a foot was nudging his own under the table and Harry was glancing up to see Blaise sending him a secret little smile and Harry somehow forgot all about the salamanders fighting it out in his guts and could only feel oddly warm, knowing a matching smile was making its way onto his own face and finding himself quite unable to stop it.

A loud snort from his right broke Harry out of his daze.

“Ugh, if the pair of you were any soppier I’d have to cast a drying charm.” Millicent grumbled and Harry flushed, turning his eye back down to his plate.

“Finally come to their senses, have they?” Draco butted in primly, carefully cutting his pork chop into delicate bite sized pieces with a pretentious air. “I had honestly given the whole thing up as a loss a week ago.”

“You should have more faith, darling Draco,” Blaise answered with a cool sip of spiced cider, “I do not give up so easily.”

“No, I suppose not. Although, am I correct in assuming that you had to abandon your usual tactics and actually make a move yourself?”

Blaise tipped his cup, conceding the point. Harry could feel his face burning.

“One must always be willing to adapt a strategy if they truly wish to succeed in any endeavour.” And then he was smiling softly at Harry again and the teasing from his friends didn’t feel so bad.

“Of course, you know what will happen if you hurt him.” Draco continued in that same haughty tone, backed by an ominous cracking of knuckles from Millicent.

Harry rolled his eyes, teasing he could put up with. But not-so-thinly veiled threats were completely unnecessary and frankly a bit cliche. Harry suspected Draco of getting into Millicent’s stash of trashy wizarding adventure-romance novels.

“Guys, seriously...”

Draco just took another delicate bite of his dinner and ignored him, evidently satisfied that his ridiculous point had been made. Blaise nudged his foot again, sending Harry a tiny wink, and suddenly the salamanders were back at it again.

~~~~~~~>

“ _Caro_ ,” Blaise murmured the next morning after Harry and Draco’s allocated hour of Occlumency tutoring (Draco was progressing at a steady pace and Harry suspected he would soon be well ready to approach Severus for some proper training), “I have a very serious matter to discuss with you.”

Harry did his best to ignore how the unexpected endearment made his heart do a funny pitter-pat and simply gave Blaise an expectant look as Draco left the dorm to get ready for the day. Leaving the pair of them alone, except for the mildly thunderous snoring of the still sleeping Crabbe and Goyle. Who were both taking full advantage of the holiday to lay in as long as humanly possible. Harry wondered if maybe Blaise was about to tell him he’d changed his mind, but then why address him like that? Or perhaps he was going to clarify what it was he truly wanted from Harry other than a date to the ball. As much as he did not want to talk about his feelings in any capacity, Harry could not deny that a little clarity of purpose would do wonders for his frayed nerves.

Jax had been of little help when Harry had tried to explain things to him. Only bobbing his head in an approving manner and hissing, “ _He will make a satisfactory nestmate. His home is very warm. Good for the eggs._ ”

Harry had then spent an hour trying to convince Jax that they were very much _not_ about to start nesting. There would be _no_ eggs of any sort to need caring for. And then worrying about if _Jax_ would ever want to start a family and how Harry would even go about arranging such a thing. He couldn’t even understand his own love life, let alone try and set up dates for his _snake_.

“I need to see what robes you plan to wear.” Blaise said, leaning gracefully against one of the dark pillars of Harry’s bed, already dressed for the day whilst Harry was still in his sleep clothes. “So that I can match you. I purchased a few options, of course, as the supply list was unacceptably vague on the matter.”

“Oh, erm, right...” Harry fought the urge to wring his hands, Blaise narrowed his eyes.

“You _did_ buy new dress robes, correct?”

“About that...”

Blaise heaved a beleaguered sigh, pushing off the post and leaning down so that he was level with Harry’s seated form. Harry didn’t meet his eyes, but he didn’t lean away either.

“You’re lucky you’re cute.” And then there were fingers tipping his chin up and Harry was being kissed again. It was only a brief press but also unaccountably sweet and Harry did not know what to do with that.

So he just sat there and blushed and thought fondly of the entire months he used to go without blood rushing to his face every other second.

“I figured I’d just use one of the robes I already have. You can pick, I don’t mind.” Harry mumbled at his bedspread, all too aware of the way Blaise’s hand had gone from touching his chin to running through his hair in a soft caress that thankfully ended after a single pass. He did not think he would have been able to bare much more than that, which Blaise seemed to understand intrinsically.

“You can’t wear any of those, Harry. They’re completely unsuitable.”

“ _You_ picked them all out.” Harry huffed, finally finding himself able to meet the other boy’s eyes.

“Yes, I did. And now we need to go get you _new_ ones.” There was a gleam in Blaise’s brown eyes that told Harry it would be a futile struggle to even think of trying to dissuade him. “It is fortunate that there is a Hogsmeade trip today. Gladrags is not nearly as modish as I would prefer, but they are serviceable enough in an emergency. As this very clearly is.”

In all the hubbub of finding a date and then subsequent freak out over what to do now that he _had_ , Harry had forgotten all about the Hogsmeade weekend. His father had begrudgingly allowed Harry to venture out into the village this year, on the stipulation that Harry never be alone and that Severus be on hand to chaperone any trips down to the village. As he got the impression that the Potion Master did not in the least care for such a duty normally, Harry was more than grateful that he was sacrificing yet more time for him. He did, however, get the impression from the other students that they did not so much appreciate the increased scrutiny on what was supposed to be a bit of an escape from their more strict professors.

Harry didn’t mind. He liked the idea that his father was close at hand should he need him. And it wasn’t as if the Potion Master was following at his heels, it would still just be him and Blaise.

Alone.

Was this a date? Did getting new robes count as a date? Would they be doing anything else afterwards, just the two of them? Or would they be meeting up at the Three Broomsticks with the rest of their friends? Would it still be a date if that happened? If it even was one in the first place...

Harry was so distracted by the whirling possibilities that he did not even register gathering his stuff together to get ready. Or tasted breakfast. Or noticed that they were already heading down to the village and his hand had somehow found its way into Blaise’s at some point in the walk. When he did, Harry had to struggle a bit not to jerk it away on instinct.

“Back with me?” Blaise teased, giving Harry’s hand a light squeeze. It was snowing a bit and there were white flakes catching softly in the few ringlets that poked out from under Blaise’s (very expensive looking) knit cap.

“Is this a date?” Harry blurted, unable to hold the words back and needing to know before the anxiety burnt him all up inside like dragonfire.

Blaise smiled, teeth as white as the snow, he had been smiling so much lately that Harry felt fairly dazed by it. Almost intimidated by the idea that he just might be the cause and maybe also a little scared that Blaise might stop and that would be Harry’s fault too.

“It can be. I would like that, _tesoro_.”

Harry was going to blame his red cheeks on the cold and the wind.

~~~~~~~>

Severus Snape took a measured sip of tea. It was of a blend that he did not usually partake, but the tea house in which he currently resided brewed an exceptional cup, so here he was. The Porlock’s Foal was not an overly crowded establishment on most days, tucked away in an off street of Hogsmeade far from the main foot traffic and not nearly so ostentatious with advertising its presence in any case. With only a modest wooden sign hanging above the main entrance and the scent of freshly brewed tea mingling with the faint sugary doughy smell of a small selection of tiny bakes goods announcing its presence. Although, perhaps in deference to the Hogwarts crowd, Porlock’s seated a fair number more patrons that day. No doubt all of whom were doing as Severus was and attempting to avoid the mad rush of too many excitable youths.

Severus preferred it when there were fewer patrons but of those that were huddled in the dim little shop, most seemed to at least be of the same mind that it was a quiet place and should remain as such.

“Hello, Severus.” A far too cheery voice broke through the comfortable silence as Remus Lupin slid into the only other chair at the table. “Bit nippy out there today,” he rubbed reddened hands together after shedding his newer looking cloak and tatty old scarf.

After casting a silent _muffliato_ to preserve the reserved atmosphere of the rest of the tea shop, Severus gave the man one of his more exasperated looks.

“Foolish wolf, it is Scotland in winter, you should be well aware of what the weather might entail and appoint yourself accordingly.” If he then took those reddened hands between his own, it was only so the man did not lose any digits to reckless negligence.

It most certainly was not so that Remus would give him that soft smile.

“How have you been, Severus? And Harry? I’ve been worried for him, and Sirius has been going a bit spar over the entire thing as well.”

“It has been trying,” Severus admitted grudgingly, “I have discovered no concrete leads into who may have conspired against my son or what their endgame might entail. There has been no further move made against him as far as I can tell. I had feared something might happen during the First Task, but that suspicion proved erroneous.”

“Nothing except a little friendly banter with a dragon, you mean?” Lupin chuckled dryly, the hands that Severus still held were more than warmed by then but he found himself somewhat reluctant to relinquish his hold. A foolish notion. He scowled across the table to cover up any errant thoughts.

“I should have expected just such an outcome from the moment I learned of the Task. The boy has always had his own idiosyncratic way of handling beasts that should otherwise be avoided at all costs. Usually without giving a thought to the toll such actions take on the continued effective operations of my heart.” Dragons, basilisks, Severus shuddered to think what might be next.

Remus, of course, merely laughed quietly at him from across the table.

Before Severus could so much as snatch his hands back in retaliation, Mrs. Kim, the Porlock’s elderly proprietor, appeared at his elbow with a steaming ceramic pot in a muted gray-blue color and matching cups.

“More tea.” She demanded more than asked once inside the purview of Severus’ privacy spell, pouring the fragrant brew into the fresh cups and whisking away his finished one. “And cakes.”

A delicate little platter of tea cakes floated onto the table next, quite without Severus having requested them. The dusting of powdered sugar over the darker chocolate of the confection resembling snowfall. It was all so horridly saccharine.

“Drink. Eat. It is a time for happy couples.” There was a steel in the small woman’s voice that brokered no arguments.

“Thank you, it looks lovely.” Remus was smiling at Mrs. Kim now, so easy with his affection, even as his hands tightened over Severus’ own to dissuade any notion he might have of pulling away.

Impetuous wolf.

When they were alone again, Remus deigned to relinquish his hold, although Severus suspected the presence of chocolate so near to the man to be the deciding factor of such a decision.

“So there has been nothing else?” He asked after making an unseemly noise around a bite of tea cake, “No threats? Or suspicious occurrences?”

“Not as such, no.” Severus scowled into his new cup, the ceramic warming his hands in not quite the same manner as they had been enjoying a moment before. Not that he would ever admit to such a thought out loud. “There _has_ been a small issue of some ingredients going missing from my stores. Boomslang skin, knotgrass, a few others.”

“And you are sure it’s not students? Or even Harry? He does take after you in that regard.”

Severus allowed himself a small measure of pride at his son’s enthusiasm for the art of potion making, but ultimately shook his head in a decisive negative.

“No, Harry knows he need only ask and I will provide for his needs. And the improved wards I have placed over the cupboards could only be slipped through by a wizard or witch of exceedingly deft skill so as not to break them in their entirety.”

Remus took a thoughtful sip of his own tea.

“Do you have an idea what these ingredients might be used for?”

Severus snorted, hitching a somewhat incredulous eyebrow across the table even as Remus gave a rueful smile in return.

“A silly question, I know. Brilliant Potion Master that you are.”

Severus smirked, murmuring silky over his cup of tea, “This may come as a surprise, wolf, but I am a deft hand at recognising sarcasm when I hear it. Even whilst shoddily disguised as flattery.”

“Oh?” Remus raised his own brows, face a slate of meekness that wouldn’t fool a toddler, “It is a good thing that I do not have a sarcastic bone in my body then isn’t it, dear?”

Severus snorted again.

“On the matter of the ingredients, they have the potential to make a great many things. Both benign and malignant in nature. There is simply not enough data to form any viable hypothesis at this point.” It was frustrating and a cause of no small amount of stress, but there was little that Severus could do about it without tipping his hand too soon and risking losing the perpetrator entirely.

If he strengthened the wards past their current point he had no doubt that he could bar the intruder completely. But allowing them the illusion of continued access gave Severus the opportunity to find out just what they were up to. It would simply take more time. Time that he was unsure that they had.

Which brought up another point that he needed to discuss with the man currently nibbling on his third of the tiny cakes and pretending quite badly that he did not want to eat the entire thing in one undignified chomp.

“I believe that something may be attempted at the upcoming... event. With the inherent chaos of such a thing, security is bound to be somewhat lax in places. I would appreciate it if you were able to attend, thereby giving additional eyes on the proceedings.”

“Severus Snape,” Remus smiled, the hint of amber in his brown eyes dancing in an all too ridiculous manner, “are you asking me to the _ball_?”

Severus scowled, folding his arms over his chest, “As added _security._ ”

“As your _date_.” The infuriating wolf shot back... not entirely incorrect. “I would love to. What time should I arrive?”

They worked through the rest of the teapot in comfortable bouts of silence or murmured conversation that was lighter in subject than Severus had opened the meeting with. When it came time to leave Remus insisted on paying for the pair of them and after a brief struggle Severus relented, all too aware of what the gesture meant to the man and willing in this instance to give way on his own pride.

The walk back through the narrow streets and onto the main thoroughfare of Hogsmeade was spent in an equal measure of contentment. It was all so unprecedented, and yet Severus found that he did not mind it. Even as it felt somewhat akin to the calm before a storm. He had found over the last year, if one did not take time to appreciate such calms, one surely came to regret it later.

As they broke out onto the far more crowded main street, many students paused in there frantic back and forth to greet Remus excitedly, clearly surprising the wolf with their enthusiasm. Although Severus could not see how the man might have overlooked how adored he was by the vast swaths of cretins he’d instructed the previous term.

By the time Severus spotted his son walking up the street with the Zabini boy, Remus’ scarred face was ruddy with the cold and embarrassment in equal measure. It was an amusing image if nothing else and Severus smirked to himself as he imagined teasing the man over it at a later point.

“Professor Lupin, I didn’t know you’d be up here today.” Harry smiled, a small thing but genuine, as he stopped before them.

“Hello, Harry. And call me Remus, I’ve told you. Hello, Mr. Zabini, I trust you are both doing well?”

“I see that you have managed to accomplish the arduous challenge set before you.” Severus murmured, sending a pointed look down at where his son’s hand was firmly clasped by the rather smug looking Blaise Zabini.

“Oh. Um. Yeah...” His son had gone an instant and bright red and Severus manfully refrained from any more teasing.

It was not a bad match. Even if Zabini now looked unaccountably pleased with himself. Severus could not say that he had not seen such an outcome approaching. It had been exceedingly clear to him for a long while that his son was close with this boy, and vice versa. The only true question remaining being that of if Harry would be able to see past his own obliviousness in the matter. Severus had his doubts that his son had done so without help, it was another trait that they undoubtedly shared.

He wondered vaguely that if this blasted Yule Ball had never occurred, how long it would have taken in truth. And if Zabini would have the patience for it. He was his mother’s son, after all. Although, Severus conceded, the boy _was_ warmer than Zosima. He held a capacity for empathy, hidden well under a facade of smirks and laissez-faire as it was, that Severus had never witnessed in his mother. As masterful a brewer as Zosima was, there was clearly a disconnect with her when it came to emotional attachments. The string of dead husbands evidence enough of that.

Zabini was also not unintelligent, an important consideration to take into account. His son deserved better than to waste his time on idiots.

Time would tell, of course, as it always did with such things. But for the moment, Severus could approve of the choice. They parted ways a moment later, as he feared Harry might melt the surrounding snow in its entirety were he forced to endure any continued talks of Yule Balls, dating, or emotions in general.

“Say hello to Sirius for me, will you? I’ve just sent him a letter, but I worry about him.” Harry requested of Remus, who smiled and nodded.

“Of course, Harry. He is doing well, hasn’t missed any appointments.”

“He’s eating enough?”

‘Between Ezra and myself, I think Sirius would be hard pressed to ever go hungry.”

“Oh good.” Harry sounded genuinely relieved. And as much as Severus did not care one whit whether the mutt ate or not, he could not deny that the effect that such news had on his son was a positive one. So he would keep his own opinions on Black’s health, mental or otherwise, to himself.

He walked Remus to the edge of the village and tried not to think of how little time they had been able to spend together. After he uncovered whatever plot threatened his son and dealt with it accordingly (and with extreme prejudice, if he were being perfectly honest) Severus knew they would have more chances to see one another. For now, a night here and a day there with the occasional letter or Floo call would have to suffice.

The logic of the situation and its inevitable conclusion did not stop him from pulling the wolf tighter against him as they shared their goodbyes in the shadow of a house.

“I’ll see you in a couple days, Sev.” Remus murmured, pressing the cold tip of his nose into Severus’ neck, right above where his own cloak protected it against the chill wind. “I love you.”

Severus made a frustrated noise, it did not help the situation at all when his insufferable wolf went and said things like that. So openly and easily, as Severus struggled to articulate the same when he was usually so exactingly verbose. He should be able to say the words and not have to rely on forceful, biting, kisses to do the expressing for him. Even if Remus returned them just as handily.

Severus should not be so _weak_.

But he was and he did and soon there was only him alone, standing in the snow and glaring at the spot where Remus had stood moments before.

“I love you, too.”

Perhaps. Perhaps one day, he would be able to say it into more than empty space and slowly drifting snowflakes.


	15. Chapter 15

Harry spent the morning of the Yule Ball trying his very best to ignore the fact that it was rapidly coming closer. It was quite a difficult task, as everywhere he seemed to turn everyone was talking excitedly about it. Or else running around frantically trying to get ready. Which was a tad ridiculous, Harry thought, watching a glowering sixth year Slytherin girl storm past clutching a hairbrush like a cudgel in one hand and a fistful of silvery ribbons in the other that Harry was unsure whether were more for decoration or garroting. Time would tell. He would have retreated back into the dorm, but Blaise and Draco were both in there and Harry wanted to avoid being prodded into frippery for as long as possible.

Venturing out of Slytherin House held no true escape either, as the halls and corridors were filled with students all too gossipy and openly cheerful for Harry to stand much of in such large doses.

The library seemed the only deserted spot to be found. As Pince would never allow the sort of boisterous behavior present in the rest of the castle to penetrate the musty quietude of the stacks. Not even Hermione Granger was there, which was mildly shocking.

Harry spent a few moments fiddling around with a Charms essay before giving it up as a loss. He was just too jittery to concentrate. He thought briefly of Occluding away the nerves, but that was only a temporary solution and he did not really want to go through the day in a numb haze.

It was a bit silly, really. To feel so off-put by something that was meant to be a treat. A fun event for inter-school unity and a chance to celebrate in a manner other than the usual extravagant feast. Perhaps if he wasn't being forced into the Tournament, Harry might not be feeling so critical of the entire affair.

Although, given the nature of it all, probably not. Balls and dancing and dates were a whole different cauldron of potion from facing down dragons, but it all just seemed so much more difficult.

Maybe that was why he was hiding out in the library.

Harry could admit that much to himself, at least. Although he probably should not have wandered off on his own, even if the castle was currently so active. There was still the possibility of something happening. At least he had Jax with him, even if the snake was currently snoozing at the bottom of Harry's satchel.

He did not have long to brood on the matter, however, as a few moments later a shadow fell over his pitiful essay.

Glancing up, Harry was not altogether unsurprised to see Blaise on the other end of it. He was giving Harry an oddly fond sort of exasperated look.

“I thought I might find you here.”

Harry shrugged sheepishly, “Yeah?”

“If you weren’t here, I was going to try Snape’s quarters next. And if you weren’t _there_ , well, then at least I’d have some proper help looking.”

“Lupin’s down there.” Harry mumbled, fiddling with his quill, “I didn’t want to be a bother.”

Blaise shifted closer, pulling a chair over next to Harry so that he was no longer looming over him like a well dressed and smirking inevitability.

Although, given how tall Blaise was, even sitting next to him it was hard for Harry not to feel a bit dwarfed by comparison. Blaise seemed to realize this, as he slouched a little in his chair and leaned forward to rest his elbows on the edge of the table as he spared Harry a real smile. His dark curls were tumbling a bit over his features from the angle and it was truly unfair how the two things combined had Harry’s insides suddenly all fuzzy and nonplussed.

He was sure he remembered a time when he could look at Blaise and not feel all off-kilter.

“I doubt Snape could ever find you a bother. Not when there are so many other far more troublesome and irritating things out there. Like the Weasley twins, or firsties who’ve never seen the right side of a cauldron before. Or literally any other person, place, or thing in existence.”

Harry snorted then quickly covered his mouth, not wanting to bring the wrath of Pince down upon them for making uncouth sounds around the books.

Blaise was smirking again, satisfied at getting a reaction out of Harry no doubt. He was sitting close enough now that their knees pressed together under the table and Harry really would like to know why that seemed like such an important detail at the moment. He also kind of really wanted to reach over and brush the curls away from the other boy’s face, just to see if that would make his fuddled up insides settle down.

Or perhaps he just wanted to feel how soft they were again.

“Seriously though, _tesoro_ , are you alright?”

Harry ducked his head, the quill in his hands had become quite mangled by that point and he dropped it next to his essay if only to save his fingers from further ink stains. Because that was just what he needed on top of everything else.

“I don’t...” Harry hesitated, he didn’t want to sound ungrateful or dismissive. He didn’t want Blaise to think that he was trying to backpedal on the tentative _thing_ that had begun to form between them. Because when Harry let himself think past everything that could go wrong, or how strange and new it all felt, he did not really want to give it up.

Blaise was his closest friend, aside from Jax, and it seemed almost a natural progression of that. If one ignored the messy feelings and bone jarring anxiety. How did people _handle_ this? It was exhausting.

“It’s not...” He tried again, only to peter out once more.

Blaise laid a hand over one of Harry’s own on the table, only the sudden silence making him realise he’d been taping at the surface nervously. Blaise’s hand was very warm and Harry found his fingers unconsciously curling around it almost at once.

“You don’t really want to go to the Yule Ball.” Blaise stated, not accusatory or angry, just a fact.

Harry managed a jerky sort of acquiesce, his hand tightening around Blaise’s fractionally.

“You don’t want to go, but you have to. It’s a shite situation, I know. But, Harry,” Blaise leaned in so that his next words brushed over Harry’s cheek, drawing an inevitable flush, “I’ll be right there with you. You don’t have to talk to anyone else if you don’t want to.”

“I have to dance in front of everyone.” He protested, earning a chuckle from Blaise that he more felt pressed against his side than heard.

“And you will do great, I should know. Just follow my lead as we’ve been practicing and it will be over before you even realise.”

“I just _hate_ being the center of attention.”

“I know, _caro_ , I know.” Blaise murmured softly, placing an equally soft kiss against the already heated skin of Harry’s cheek.

It really was completely unfair how understanding Blaise was about everything. But Harry could not be anything other than grateful that the other boy could somehow manage to untangle the convoluted knot of feelings he had surrounding the Yule Ball and Blaise’s own part therein without jumping to the more obvious (an incorrect) conclusion that he just did not want to go with _Blaise_. A patent untruth. Harry could not actually think of any other person he would even consider. Except Luna, whom he suspected would have been blithely distracting enough on the whole for Harry to get through the night relatively unscathed.

Blaise had made his opinion on that matter exceedingly clear, however. So here they were.

Feeling a touch braver than he had earlier in the conversation, Harry turned his head a bit towards Blaise. They were huddled close enough still that it was nearly no effort at all to press a hesitant kiss of his own against the other boy’s cheek in thanks. Or, at least, that’s where Harry had been aiming. Blaise had shifted a bit at the last moment and it ended up somewhere closer to the corner of his mouth, which somehow seemed far more daring than he’d meant to be.

Blaise just chuckled lowly again and returned the kiss, more centered and very much obviously meant as such.

It wasn’t bad. Really. Harry thought maybe this part he could get used to.

Or perhaps not, as suddenly there was a blast of cold air knocking them apart and sending his Charms essay whizzing down an aisle.

“There is absolutely _no_ canoodling allowed in the library!” Madam Pince shrieked, swooping down on them like an angry vulture. “Out! Out! The pair of you! I don’t want to see either of you in here for a week! Out!”

Harry jumped up from the table, summoning his wayward essay with an ease that would have surprised him had he not been currently dying of embarrassment. Blaise helped him gather his things as Prince continued to berate them all the way to the door, although _he_ did not seem in the least phased. Was, in point of fact, smirking in the extra smug way he did whenever he felt exceedingly pleased with himself.

Harry did not understand why getting banned from the library should make the other boy so happy, but he wasn’t about to ask either. He sensed the answer would just have embarrassed him further.

Jax poked his head out of Harry’s satchel, blinking blearily, “ _What’s with the fucking racket?_ ”

“ _Nothing, it’s fine, buddy._ ”

Jax gave him a suspicious look but ultimately retreated back into the satchel with a hissy grumble.

Blaise was walking close enough that their arms kept brushing. It was distracting, more than it should rightfully be. So he shuffled his arm full of parchment and mangled quills until he had a free hand that did not remain so for very long. Harry suspected that had probably been the point in any case, as Blaise’s darker fingers meshed with his own. He might be a bit slow on the uptake about these sorts of things, but Harry was nothing if not adaptable.

~~~~~~~>

Harry tugged at the collar of his dress robes, only to have his hand swatted away absently by a huffy Draco.

“You’ll wrinkle them. Now hold still.”

Harry sighed but allowed the blonde to finish affixing whatever shiny bobble he deemed necessary along said collar. Harry hadn’t really got much of a look, just enough to see that is was silvery in nature and a bit fiddly looking. The robes themselves were predominately dark in color, with bottle green accents that Blaise had insisted did wonders for his eyes. Harry was taking the other boy’s word for it. Blaise’s robes were more of the same green, with black acting the secondary color. The brightness went well against Blaise’s darker skin tone, even Harry could see that. It was also oddly satisfying to know they were matching, even if he would never admit such to Blaise as he knew the other boy would be insufferable about it.

Before dressing in his fancy robes, Blaise had once more attempted to tame the mop of hair on top of Harry’s head. Failing in the effort, to the surprise of exactly no one. Although Harry had maybe let the attempt go on longer than strictly necessary, as Blaise’s long fingers were sort of nice running over his scalp.

After giving it that up as a loss, Harry had then been ran through a rather lengthy rigmarole involving what seemed a small treasury’s worth of earrings and brooches and cufflinks that in the end resolved itself into Harry’s own emerald teardrops that he had bought what felt like ages ago now on that same day he’d had his ears pierced. He did not pay much mind to the other things, as it was all a bit boring to him. But it made Blaise and Draco happy enough to prod him into acceptable shape, so Harry did not mind too terribly. If he had to do this thing, he was going to take what comforts he could along the way.

Besides, Blaise kept sending him that secret little smile and Harry did quite like that. Even if he had to forego his comfortable boots for dress shoes.

The Slytherin common room was crowded more than usual, with everyone awaiting their friends or dates, or else putting finishing touches on their outfits. Although Harry would bet a fair number were just there to gossip and snark over what everyone else was wearing or who they were going with.

Harry spotted Millicent emerging from the girl’s corridor and waved her over, the sooner they left for the Great Hall, the sooner the whole night would be over. Millicent looked very nice, Harry thought. Her dark dress robes were free of cat hair and of an obviously professional cut. She’d even put a bit of a wave in her bob that Harry thought suited her, even if it was a little odd to see the girl dressed up at all. Although compared to most of the other girls around Millicent’s get up was not so very elaborate ( _Draco_ was wearing more makeup than her, Harry had in fact had to put his foot down when the blonde had come at him with the liner pencil), he thought it fit her quite well.

Outside the shifting wall that hid Slytherin House from the rest of the school was another crowd of people. This one mostly consisting of students from the other Houses waiting for their dates to emerge and those hanging around to gossips and giggle over who ended up with who.

Harry was at once surprised and completely not to see a bashful Neville shuffle over to them. He stopped before Draco and flushed, smiling shyly.

“You look very nice.” Neville mumbled at the flagstones.

“Of course I do.” Draco huffed, although Harry could tell the blonde was pleased by the compliment, as he took Neville by the elbow and fairly flounced up the corridor, pointed nose high in the air. Neville did not seem to mind so much being dragged along in his wake.

Harry sent Blaise a questioning look that the other boy returned with a snicker, “Those two have been dating a month at least. I’m surprised Draco managed to keep it as quiet as he has.”

“Really?” Harry glanced down the way the pair had disappeared, he’d had no idea. But to be fair, Harry rarely did about these things.

“Oh yeah,” Millicent commented, picking unladylike at her nails (there had been an attempt at varnishing them, but the chipped and uneven coating showed a lack of enthusiasm for the idea), “Draco’s been panting after Longbottom ever since he came back all broad-shouldered and muscley. It’s been mildly hilarious to watch.”

“Huh.” Harry shook his head, he really was unobservant.

A moment later a much slighter figure weaved their way through the gathered students, stopping before Millicent and grinning broadly up at her.

“Hey, Millie! You all ready to go? I like your hair, it’s all wavy.” Justin Finch-Fletchley was looking pretty smart in his own blue and gray dress robes, with his hair neatly coiffed and so obviously pleased to be there.

Harry thought the Hufflepuff might be more prudent in running right then, as he had never once seen anybody refer to Millicent Bulstrode as _Millie_ and escaped in any way unscathed from the slight.

To his astonishment, however, Millicent only rolled her eyes chucked Justin on the shoulder.

Harry was about to send yet another incredulous look up at Blaise when a derisive shriek of laughter broke through the low chatter of the crowd.

“ _Really_ , Bulstrode?” Pansy Parkinson sneered, her pale pink robes and delicate tinkling jewelry would have made her look very nice if the expression twisting her face hadn’t completely ruined the effect. “Not just a Hufflepuff, but a _mudblood_ as well. I know you must have had to scrap the bottom of the barrel, but you should have _some_ class.”

Tracy Davis covered her mouth with a hand, eyes wide, but obviously holding in a laugh. Daphne Greengrass on Parkinson’s other side did not look as amused, although she didn’t speak up either.

“Hey!” Harry growled in tandem with Justin, Blaise, and a fair number of the surrounding students. “Shut it, Parkinson.”

Not the most original comeback, but Harry was too angry to think of anything properly biting. Millicent was glaring down her nose at the other girl with so much cold disregard that even Draco would be hard pressed to match it.

“At least I have a date, Parkinson. I see no one’s brought themselves low enough to ask _you_.”

Parkinson flushed pink enough to match her robes, her painted mouth bared in a snarl that paired with her pug nose reminded Harry quite heavily of his Aunt Marge’s bulldog Ripper.

“Loads of people asked me,” she blustered, “I just have standards.”

Justin, who’s happy smile had dimmed considerably, tugged on Millicent's sleeve.

“Let’s just go, Millie, it’s not worth it.”

Millicent sent a last, seething glare at Parkinson before snorting and turning away, pointedly taking Justin’s hand in her own as they all finally started down the corridor. Harry could still feel the anger licking hotly under his skin, but if Millicent wanted to walk away, that’s what he would do. Even if every instinct in his body wanted him to turn right back around and hex Parkinson’s toes backwards.

“She’s a bitch, always has been.” Millicent was grumbling to Justin, “Don’t listen to anything she says, it doesn’t mean shit.”

“I know that, we’ve been sharing classes for how many years now?”

“I mean it.” Millicent insisted, and Harry had the sudden feeling that this should probably be a private conversation between the two of them but he could hardly not hear in the close quarters of the corridor. “I don’t care that you’re... that you’re muggleborn. It’s all so stupid anyway.”

Justin beamed up at her, his unquenchable enthusiasm for all things once more apparent as he swung their joined hands back and forth. Harry was equal parts shocked that Millicent allowed the silly gesture and slightly amazed to see a hint of pink across the bridge of her nose as well. Justin turned his smile on Harry next.

“Did you hear? Rumor is, Dumbledore got The Weird Sisters to play tonight! That’ll be wicked.”

“Really?” Harry perked up.

While they were not his usual taste, it would still be a slim silver lining to this entire Yule Ball fiasco if it turned out to be true. They spent the rest of the walk talking about music. Justin was on a metal kick, which Harry could appreciate if not enjoy as much as his beloved punk. It was fast and energetic, which he liked, but it was also so much heavier. Pounding out in a thunderous, rolling, inevitability that seemed almost inescapable at times. Plus, _Master of Puppets_ just felt a little too close to reality at the moment for Harry to want anything to do with it. They could both agree on Anthrax, however, as an acceptable middle ground.

Harry was so distracted by the conversation that when Blaise stopped them before the closed doors to the Great Hall he was entirely unprepared for it to be nearly time for this whole disaster to start.

Draco was there next to them, smoothing the collar and shoulders of Neville’s robes fastidiously, whilst the Gryffindor just stood there blushing and let him. Harry could see Ron Weasley across the way, his dress robes were... unique. Harry would have gone for a different color than maroon if he were ginger, but to each his own he supposed. Next to Ron was Padma Patil, looking pretty in bright jewel tone robes and a lot of jewelry. Harry had been there when she, tired of Ron interrupting what was supposed to be their study time with bemoaning his lack of prospects, had thrown a quill at his nose and told him if he shut up about it she would take him to the ball. Ron had gapped at her, turned tomato red, and did as told.

He didn’t see Hermione anywhere amongst the steadily growing crowd, her head of hair was pretty hard to miss, and wondered if she was foregoing the ball completely; like Harry wished he could.

As if sensing the direction of his thoughts, Blaise slid an arm around Harry's side, pulling him closer.

“Everything will be fine, _caro_.” Blaise murmured.

Harry nodded, even if he didn’t really believe it. The arm around him was nicer than he’d thought it might be.

There was a parting in the flow of students and Fleur Delacour came gliding through with a more than slightly gobsmacked Roger Davies accompanying her. She looked pretty enough but did not seem at all impressed with anything really. Harry had not seen her face her dragon in the First Task, but he knew she had done particularly well. He hadn’t really had much cause to speak with her though.

Cedric Diggory, Harry saw, was hand in hand with the Ravenclaw Seeker, Cho Chang. They seemed happy enough to be there. In fact, everyone except Harry seemed happy at the prospect of the Yule Ball.

When Viktor Krum finally arrived, it was with a pretty brunette on his arm.

“ _Dio mio_ ,” Blaise gasped softly, “is that _Granger_?”

Harry looked again. It was indeed Hermione Granger. With what had to have been an entire apothecary's worth of hair potions taming her usual dense fizz into sleek streams of elegantly coiled locks. Her robes were pretty as well, but Harry thought the nicest thing about it all was that she was smiling and there was not a studying related stress line in sight. Krum seemed pretty pleased himself and looked to actually be talking to Hermione in multi-syllable words and at lengths longer than two or three at a time.

Harry had noticed that Krum tended to hang around the library, it was fairly obvious when there was a perpetual pack of giggling girls hiding in the stacks near him (at least until Pince kicked them out). Maybe they had bonded over books.

Before any real hubbub could get started, the doors to the Great Hall opened at last and Professor McGonagall appeared.

“Will the four Champions please join me at the front.”

Harry, reluctantly and with a little nudging from Blaise, filed in behind Cedric and Cho. Music could be heard now and when Harry passed over the threshold into the Great Hall he had to admit that it did look rather nice. There were streaming ribbons and strings of icicles, the ceiling was crisscrossed in ivy and mistletoe, and in place of the four House tables there were instead a numerous scattering of smaller round one.

They were led by McGonagall to a table that held four judges and, inexplicably, Percy Weasley.

Harry was not best pleased that he would have to be sharing his meal with Dumbledore, but he supposed it could have been worse.

Percy pulled out the chair beside him and Harry sat. It was odd to have Blaise at his other side, rather than across from him as was usual.

“Hello, Harry.” Percy said in that somewhat stiff way he had, “Very good to see you. I hear from my brother Charlie that you did very well against your dragon in the First Task. He’s just been going on and on about how you apparently _asked_ for your egg. Just goes to show, politeness will always win out in the end.”

Harry held in his snort, if barely, though he did not dare look at Blaise lest he lose it entirely.

“Not to besmirch my evident depth of good manners, but what are you doing here?”

“I’ve been promoted!” Percy announced proudly, “Mr. Crouch has taken a bit ill of late and seen fit to give me this duty until he’s back on his feet. It’s a lot of responsibility, but I believe I am more than capable. Oliver was pleased as punch of course, although he couldn’t make it tonight as his team is off in Finland playing a match. Ordinarily, I would be there to support him, but he insisted I tend to my duties here. It wouldn’t do to slack off just as things have really started to get rolling.”

At the mention of Quidditch, Ludo Bagman tuned into their conversation, grilling Percy on Oliver Wood’s stats and what he thought of Puddlemere’s chances in the upcoming cup. Percy was all too happy to extol on his partner’s virtues and looked perfectly content to talk at length with Bagman. Which Harry did not mind in the least as he had no desire to speak of Percy Weasley’s boss, or bestow false platitudes to a man he did not care for.

He’d think the topic of Quidditch would have interested Krum as well, but the usually dour guy was far too busy chatting away amicably with Hermione. Although he could not seem to quite manage to pronounce her name correctly. Hermione did not seem to mind.

Instead of the food just appearing on the table in buffet fashion as it did usually, they were given little menus that they needed to speak their selections into and that would then appear on their plates.

A quick scan showed a disappointing lack of curry, so Harry ordered carbonara instead. He remembered enjoying it while in Italy. He smiled a bit when he saw Blaise had ordered the same.

Thankfully Dumbledore did not try and speak with him much over the meal. Perhaps sensing that Harry would have very little patience at this point for it.

He could see his father at a table not far from his own, filled primarily with teachers and Remus at his side. Remus looked nice in new robes.

“Although,” Blaise commented at one point, “someone should really tell him there are other colors out there aside from shades of brown.”

Harry had to hide his snicker in his water goblet.

When the plates cleared for the final time, they were all made to stand so that they might be vanished and leave the floor clear for dancing. Harry was very reluctant to abandon his position, but Blaise gave his hand a warm squeeze and he allowed himself to be pulled away from his last bastion of hope.

The lights dimmed a bit as the music rose. Blaise smiled down at him, arranging their hands into the proper position as if this were just another lesson. If Harry just kept looking up at Blaise and not at the circle of judging faces surrounding them, he could almost believe it.

They took a slow turn around the room, flowing in the wake of the other Champions and their partners. Blaise’s hand was firm on his waist and warm where is clasped Harry own, guiding them smoothly across the dancefloor. Harry even managed not to step on his toes.

“Very good, _tesoro_.” Blaise bent down a bit to beath against his ear. Harry suspected for the express purpose of seeing him flush. “That was not so hard. Look.”

Harry begrudgingly did so, breaking his utter focus on Blaise to see that they were no longer alone on the dance floor. It was filled now with twirling couples and grinning faces. Harry let out a breath he had not known he had been holding onto so stringently. Blaise gave his side a light squeeze, smiling with just a hint of whiteness.

It wasn’t so bad, Harry admitted in the darkness of his mind. He still would have rather had a choice in the matter. But it was not all bad.

They weaved around the room, watching the other couples dance with varying degrees of success. Ron Weasley did well enough, if a bit clumsily. While a pair of Hufflepuffs seemed to be making up the steps as they went along, and not very concurrently if the wincing from the girl was anything to go by. Draco and Neville were a surprisingly well coordinated unit, cutting around the floor with neat, precise movements. Not something that Harry would have expected from Neville. Though as strict as his grandmother was, he had probably been put through a battery of lessons growing up until he could manage a decent pace. Draco had probably had those self-same lessons, but taken them gladly.

Justin and Millicent seemed to be doing fairly well, though that may have been due to Millicent taking the lead. She was at least a head taller than Justin and probably had more practical experience in any case, Justin just looked happy to be dancing at all. 

They passed his father at one point, leading Remus around the floor for the apparent dark amusement gained by completely blindsiding the couples around them when they realised that not only was the Potion Master _dancing_ but with the erstwhile Professor Lupin. There were many a dropped jaw and unintended collisions as people turned to stare at the unprecedented sight instead of watching where they were going. Remus winked at him as they passed, clearly enjoying the chaos they were leaving in their wake. Severus did not do anything so overt, but the tilt of his brow and absolute, stone cold deadpan of his expression as he glided so easily across the floor was a pretty clear indicator of how amusing he found it.

Harry and Blaise danced for two song lengths before retreating to a side table with some punch. Now that most everybody was distracted and not looking at him, the tension seemed to seep out of Harry. Jax poked his head out of his robe sleeve, looking surprisingly awake for once, and flicked his forked tongue curiously out at Harry's drink.

After getting a taste, however, the serpent shook his head rapidly from side to side, evidently unimpressed with the flavor. Harry chuckled and scritched under his chin.

Blaise held out a bit of ginger newt to Jax, who gladly snapped that up.

“How are you fairing, _caro_?” The boy murmured, just low enough to be heard over the swell of music. They were sitting quite close, sides pressed firmly together as Blaise leaned in to pet along Jax's neck.

“Better.” Harry admitted, grudgingly, taking a sip of his drink and finding it perfectly acceptable in spite of his snake's dire reaction. “It isn't so bad when everyone isn't looking at you.”

“I'm glad.” Blaise smiled, his white teeth seeming brighter still in the dimmer light of the Great Hall. “I very much enjoy dancing with you.”

Harry managed a smile of his own, hoping his flush was not too evident.

There were a few more waltzes before The Weird Sisters indeed came out to play. It was all very energetic and fascinating to watch. Harry and Blaise stuck near the back so as not to be caught up in the riotous jumping and spinning that seemed to burst into existence at any given moment, it was still pretty enjoyable to witness.

After a while, however, Harry was feeling quite stifled in the warm and noisy air of the Great Hall and Blaise suggested they take a bit of a walk outside.

“I've heard they've set up a path and everything, very romantic.” Blaise winked, tugging Harry by the hand and laughing at the face he apparently pulled.

Outside was blessedly cool and there was indeed a twisting path lined with twinkling flutterby bushes and dotted with the occasional stone bench. There were a number of other people also taking advantage of the quieter atmosphere, but not too many that Harry felt worried. Blaise led them at a slow, meandering pace along the path. His hand was still in Harry's and Harry tried not to think about how sweaty his must be.

As they walked, Harry could hear the occasional hushed giggle, or see a suspiciously quivering bush, but for the most part they were alone after a few twists and turns.

Harry was working on maybe building up the courage to pull Blaise down into a kiss when they came across a tinkling fountain. There was a bit of a breeze now and Harry couldn't suppress a shiver. Blaise seemed to take that as permission to put an arm around Harry's shoulders and tug him close. His nose was a cold spot where it brushed against Harry's cheek, but his mouth was warm and soft and Harry thought maybe the night hadn't been a total disaster after all.

Jax, evidently feeling left out, wriggled his head out of Harry's collar and butted up against Blaise’s chin, obviously demanding pets. Blaise chuckled against Harry's mouth and pulled back.

“Sorry.” Harry mumbled, embarrassed.

But Blaise just smiled and rubbed Jax’s head to the serpent delight.

“It's fine, _caro_. I rather prefer this to what might happen should he disapprove of me. I would prefer my robes and myself to stay free of burning venom.”

“ _Smart guy,_ ” Jax hissed smugly, flicking his tongue out.

Harry rolled his eyes, about to coax Jax back under his robes when the snake suddenly let out a displeased noise and swung his head around, amethyst eyes scanning the area carefully.

“What is it?” Harry whispered, tensing up and reaching for his wand.

“ _I can smell that Skeeter bitch._ ”

Harry let out a disgruntled hiss of his own and stepped back a pace from Blaise to better look around for any out of place wildlife. He didn't see anything, but Blaise now had his wand out as well, ready if with a slightly bemused expression.

“ _That reporter is here,_ ” Harry explained in Italian, with a hope that Skeeter did not speak it. He wanted to catch her off guard if he could. “ _She's an unregistered animagus. Jax can smell her._ ”

“ _Ah,_ ” Blaise smirked, “ _a bit of friendly blackmail, then? Wonderful._ ”

Harry snorted, amused. They circled the little square and fountain, but still Harry could not see anything. It did not help that there was minimal illumination. He suspected Skeeter wouldn't hang around long once it became apparent that the area was being searched, even if she didn't quite know the reason. Jax confirmed as much a moment later when he grumpily admitted that the scent had disappeared.

By then he and Blaise had circled the fountain and come across Professor Hagrid and Madame Maxime in the middle of what looked like a very private conversation. They prudently hurried along. Harry figured it would probably be best to return to the Great Hall.

On the way there they passed a rather irate looking Karkaroff. And further along that same path were both Severus and Remus. Harry's father seemed to be taking schadenfreudic pleasure from disturbing the various couples hiding in the bushes and docking points for indecent behaviors. Remus was rolling his eyes but definitely looked more amused than anything at the scramblings of awkward teenagers being caught out.

Harry was simply glad that Severus had not seen him and Blaise kissing by that fountain, he may very well have died of embarrassment.

“Having a nice evening, you two?” Remus asked, smiling warmly.

“It's been lovely.” Blaise answered, taking Harry's hand in his own once more and weaving their fingers together as Harry tried not to show how utterly ridiculous the gesture made him feel.

“You should return to the castle.” Severus told them, sending a dark look around the open air. “It is more secure and I am not entirely convinced that whoever is behind putting your name in the Goblet will not use this as an opportunity to attempt something nefarious.”

“We were just heading back.” Harry confirmed, “I only wanted some air.”

“And a bit of privacy, too, hmm?” Remus chuckled and Harry would bet a good deal of galleons that his heated face could easily melt the decorative icicles scattered about.

Blaise just smirked, which got another laugh out of Remus.

“Sirius would love this one.” He said to Severus, who merely rolled his own eyes and waved them along.

“Don't stay up too late, I'll not have you falling asleep over the cauldron if you wish to brew with me tomorrow.”

Harry had nearly forgotten that it was Christmas in the morning, with the anxiety of the ball drowning near everything else from existence.

“Yes, sir. Of course.”

His father gave him a decisive nod and they parted ways.

Inside, things had not calmed down in the least. He could see Millicent and Justin jumping enthusiastically in time to the music amid a mass of other students. There were clusters of partygoers gathered around the drinks tables. It was far noisier than it had been in the calmness of the decorated garden but he and Blaise managed to find a serviceable spot to observe from and talk without having to shout.

“Look.” Blaise pointed with a sharp smirk.

It took a moment, but Harry managed to spot Pansy Parkinson among a cluster of girls. She looked furious as she spat out a portion of punch, her face twisted. Tracy Davis took a sip of the same and shrugged, which only seemed to infuriate Parkinson further.

“I hexed her so that everything tastes like vinegar.” Millicent and Justin had made their way over to them. She looked exceedingly pleased with herself and Harry matched her smirk in kind. “You should have seen the faces she was pulling all through dinner.”

“You're so clever, Millie! Isn't she clever?” Justin shouted over the music, his carefully coiffed hair now a sweaty mess from all the dancing and jumping about, but he was looking up at Millicent with giant adoring eyes, a bit like a puppy.

“I've always thought so.” Blaise agreed readily, toasting Millicent with his own cup. Harry nodded as well.

Justin rose up on his toes and smushed a slightly messy kiss against her cheek and Harry swore the girl blushed even as she rolled her eyes and huffed.

“The bitch deserved worse, but I suppose this will do for now. Maybe she'll learn to keep her idiocy to herself.”

“I wouldn't bet on that.” Blaise commented.

“Yeah, me either.”

They all snickered and Harry supposed the night was not a total loss.


	16. Chapter 16

Christmas morning dawned much noisier than Harry had experienced in quite some time. With the dorm at capacity and many of his yearmates still excited from the Yule Ball the night before, Harry was hard pressed to attempt any sort of lie in. Not that he had been planning on one as such, Harry never really slept in even when the option were there for the taking. Still, it was odd to wake to the sound of rending paper and exuberant cries of approval. Most of which seemed to be originating from Crabbe and Goyle Harry saw as he peeked through the slit in his curtains. The two hulking boys were already surrounded by a mountain of colorful shredded detritus and looked to be happily stuffing their faces with various Christmas treats.

Theo, on his bed beside Harry’s, was more sedately peeling away shiny green wrapping to reveal a new book that he seemed pleased to receive. Harry retreated back into the privacy of his own bed and rubbed at his eyes, suppressing a yawn. Jax wriggled his way out of the warm nest of blankets, flicking his forked tongue out at the air and looking more awake than Harry felt.

The previous night had been exhausting on a number of levels, but it was over now. Harry just had to remind himself of that. Although, that just brought up the fact that there were still two entire Tasks to get through still. And he _really_ did not want to think about that, especially when there were presents to open.

So after giving Jax a good scritch under the chin, Harry reached past his curtain and fumbled his glasses from the nightstand. When he pulled back the emerald drapes for real, he was met by the sight of Draco Malfoy sitting primly upon his bed and delicately nibbling on a macaron and surveying his pile of neatly wrapped gifts.

Harry's pile was smaller than Draco's but surprisingly not by much. It was still a mild shock that he received any at all, but this was definitely one thing that Harry wasn't going to question too deeply.

He grabbed his first gift and joined in the ripping.

“Happy Christmas, Harry.” Draco smiled, holding out his box of neatly arranged treats. They were all in various pale shades and looked perfectly crafted, Harry took a purple one.

“Happy Christmas.”

The macaron tasted surprisingly of lavender and bergamot, but it was quite nice. If a bit more fussy than Harry usually bothered with.

The first present was from Ezra and unsurprisingly contained a selection of rare ingredients along with a letter that Harry set aside to reply to later.

Sirius had sent him a penknife that could apparently open any lock. It was a fascinating gift, not only in its usefulness but the craftsmanship and spell work that must have gone into it. Harry itched to test it out, wondering just what the limit was on its abilities. Surely it could not slice through _any_ ward. And how exactly did it go about unlocking mechanisms without ruining them?

Jax flicked his tongue out at the penknife, wedge head cocked in an equally curious manner.

“ _That is definitely something._ ” The snake hissed and Harry nodded his agreement.

So engrossed was he with the thing that he didn't notice Blaise approaching him on socked feet until the bed dipped as the other boy sat down, tipping Harry a bit into his side. Which made him flush a little even as Blaise got that satisfied smirk. Harry decided not moving was probably the least embarrassing action to take, plus Blaise was undeniably warm to lean against.

“Happy Christmas, _tesoro_.” Blaise murmured right against his ear, exacerbating Harry's flush and holding out a small box.

Harry took the present more out of instinct than anything. It was wrapped in a deeply purple paper and tied with a silver ribbon. Harry held it uncertainty for a moment before managing to snap out of it and carefully undo the bow, peeling back the paper.

Inside was a sheaf of parchment rolled tightly and tied with a ribbon matching the color of the wrapping paper and laying on a bed of softly crumpled tissue. Harry sent Blaise a questioning look before taking the scroll out and delicately sliding the ribbon free.

Unrolling the parchment revealed line upon line of neatly inked musical notes flowing across the parchment in a way that Harry lacked any capacity to read but that he was sure would sound brilliant if played by Blaise.

“What is it?”

“A song,” Blaise smiled, leaning even further into Harry to run a finger along a series of tumbling notes, “I wrote it. For you.”

Harry blinked, eyes darting from the sheet music to Blaise and back.

“For _me_?”

Harry was honestly floored. The time and effort that Blaise must have put into crafting it. Just for Harry. It was... he couldn't...

Harry hastily set the parchment back in the box lest he crumple it unintentionally. There was just so much emotion swirling up inside him that Harry was at a bit of a loss at how to react. Blaise was still smiling that small grin, the one that showed just a hint of white teeth. And he had written a song, for _Harry_.

Throwing caution to the winds, Harry stopped trying to figure out how he should react and just went with his gut. Which apparently meant that he was the sort to kiss people in a dorm full of his yearmates. It was an unprecedented display of affection but Harry could not bring himself to care overmuch in that very moment because Blaise was kissing him back. Besides, it was Christmas, he should get a pass on Christmas.

Still, Harry pulled back soon enough, flushed and clutching the box in his hands with tight fingers.

“Thank you.” He whispered. “Will you play it for me?”

“Of course.” Blaise murmured back, still leaning in so close to him. “Later though, somewhere less crowded.”

“Yes, later, please.” Theo commented dryly, a licorice wand hanging from the corner of his mouth even as he smirked at them. “Do save of all from the sugar shock so saccharine a sight would undoubtedly induce.” 

Blaise merely smirked at the other boy, draping one of his long arms around Harry's shoulders as Harry endeavoured to get his heated face under control.

In a desperate bid for anything to distract, Harry grabbed his own gift for Blaise and held it out to him. Blaise took it with a flash of a smile and Harry tried not to feel too bereft as it necessitated the removal of Blaise's arm from around his shoulders to open it.

Harry, suddenly nervous that it was a terrible present, fiddled with a spare bit of wrapping paper. Tearing it into confetti absentmindedly as he tried to decipher the look on Blaise's face as he opened the gift.

“It's a music box.” Harry blurted, “for recording different layers of sound. You play so many instruments, I thought you might like it...”

Harry had found the device at the music shop down in Hogsmeade and thought Blaise might be able to use it during the summers when he liked to tinker around with his music. It was probably a stupid idea, Harry thought now that Blaise wasn't saying anything. He was just holding onto the elegantly carved box and staring at it, running a finger along the gilded hinge.

“I'm sorry.” Harry hunched down a bit, “I just thought...”

“ _Tesoro_ ,” Blaise interrupted what was sure to be a rambling apology, his voice was quiet, deeper than usual as he cradled the music box close, “it's _perfect_.”

Then apparently it was time for more kissing even in spite of the huffy groans from Theo and Draco both. Harry was just glad he hadn't bungled the whole thing entirely.

After that exchange, they went back to opening the rest of their presents. Harry received the usual assortment of sweets and Draco had gifted him yet more jewelry. This time a pair of silver earrings carved in the shape of twisting vines. They were actually really sort of nice looking and Harry told the blonde so even though he knew it would make Draco preen so very smugly for a good long while.

All throughout the process the little toy dragon that Harry had let loose in the dorm after the First Task kept swooping down from its perch to snatch up colorful ribbons and bows and discarded pieces of paper. The first time it happened Jax had attempted to snap the little dragon out of the air but it had deftly evaded and carted its prize of gold ribbon up into the canopy of Harry's bed.

By the time Millicent wandered into the room Harry suspected that the dragon had built up quite the horde of shiny bits and bobs and Jax was grumpy at his continued failure to capture the wooden beast.

Millicent had Harry's gift to her under one arm, a skate deck with an enchanted picture of a black cat prowling along its length. Harry had spent no few hours straining his lackluster skill at Charms to nudge the muggle image into moving and was pretty proud of himself for the effort. Even if the motions were probably nowhere near as smooth at Millicent could have done herself, Harry had wanted to try at least.

Millicent looked pleased enough with the gift in any case if the punch she landed on his shoulder was any indication.

“This is brilliant, Harry.” She grunted, holding up the deck with both hands, the cat coiled up ready to pounce across the board.

“I left the wheels off, in case you wanted to try out your hovering idea.” Harry grinned, rubbing his sore shoulder. “I can help put them on if not.”

“No, no, don't you dare. This will be bloody wicked, just you wait.”

Before Harry could reply or a bemused looking Blaise could ask what exactly they were talking about, a black streak of fur flew between them with a yowl. Maximus the cat had followed Millicent into the dorms and had spotted the greedy little dragon trying to cart off more colorfully crumpled paper and pounced. The dragon veered just barely out of reach but ended up in snapping distance of Jax, who lunged and managed to knock the toy off course but not catch it securely.

What followed was a chaotic romp around the dorm as Maximus and Jax attempted to corner the minute dragon with little regard to who or what lay in their way. Paper scraps and Bertie Bott's went flying as Maximus launched off of Goyle’s head. Jax was swearing up a storm and he kept just barely missing wingtips and spiked tail. Harry eventually had to just grab hold of the serpent before he resorted to spitting fire, that would not make for a pleasant Christmas morning.

Millicent drew her wand and flicked it at her cat with an eye roll, freezing the hissing feline midair even as he attempted a few futile swipes into the empty air. The dragon did a final (rather smug, Harry thought) lap around the ceiling before settling back into the now slightly sagging canopy of Harry's bed.

“Well, that is quite enough excitement before breakfast for me.” Draco sniffed, picking a blue speckled bean from his blonde hair.

Theo snickered.

Jax was glaring mutinously up at where he knew the dragon to be and Harry booped the serpent on the nose to dissuade him of any ideas. Besides, breakfast _was_ sounding pretty good about then.

Another odd thing about so many people staying on over the winter break was that the House tables all remained where they were when usually it was just the singular one. But although the House tables were present, it seemed a strange air of informality had befallen the school as there were students from all Houses scattered about the long tables without their usual regard for separation. At Harry's own section of Slytherin, Neville had been tugged down by a slightly imperious Draco and Justin had squeezed himself into the space between Harry and Millicent with a grin as if he had always been there.

“Oh, are we switching places today?” A dreamy sort of voice floated over the excited Christmas morning babble as Luna Lovegood drifted up to them. “How lovely. And clever, as it will confuse any lingering fliptessers. A few always cling to rooms after large, rambunctious, gatherings.”

Luna then settled in next to Blaise and spooned a large scoop of cottage cheese onto her plate.

Harry grinned into his tea.

When it came time to meet his father for their usual brewing tradition, he was not really surprised to still see Remus hanging around. He hesitated a moment in the entryway to the laboratory, unsure, but Severus motioned him in.

Remus smiled warmly at him from where he was leaning against a side table.

“Happy Christmas, Harry.”

“You, too. Are you staying here for the moon?” Harry asked, noticing that the ingredients and implements that his father had set out were very familiar.

“No, not here.” Remus answered, the words a bit stiff and Harry figured it was probably still an uncomfortable topic for him to discuss. “Sirius and I are going to my late father's house. It's remote and we've made good use of it since I left Hogwarts.”

“Oh, okay.” Harry felt about as awkward as Remus looked and he was more than glad to be given a mortar full of sharp smelling ginger to grind down into paste.

Remus stayed long enough to share lunch with them and to pocket his finished potion before heading out.

After the Wolfsbane, Harry and Severus spent a few hours tinkering around with various potions of their own in enjoyable quiet occasionally punctuated by the chop of a knife or hiss and pop from a bubbling cauldron. It was just such a relief to do something that he purely enjoyed without the looming anxiety of any upcoming Tasks or Balls or expectations. He could just lose himself in the careful slicing of leaves or crushing of wings without worrying about more than the correct proportions of volcanic ash to rosewater drops. Or making sure to add that extra little twist to every fifth clockwise stir.

It was nice.

~~~~~~~>

Christmas could not last indefinitely however and soon the holidays were over and classes resumed. Harry had not made much progress on deciphering his egg, nor were his ears thanking him for the effort. Jax had taken to relocating into Blaise’s arms behind the other boy’s sound dampening spell whenever Harry brought the horrid golden egg out for another try. There were no obvious markings on it, no writing or glyphs or clues etched inside or out. It was just a very loud egg.

He said as much to Cedric Diggory when the boy had come up to Harry one day mid-January to ask if he’d made any progress. Harry would have suspected the Hufflepuff of trying to get another leg up on the next Task if Cedric wasn’t so blindingly, obviously, good natured and honest about everything he did. He really was a model Hufflepuff that way.

“So no luck at all?”

“No,” Harry groused, “only headaches and bans from opening the stupid thing in the dorm.”

Cedric laughed, “Oh yeah, me too. Tannerson threatened to choke me with the blasted thing the last time I tried it in mine.”

“He could have suggested much worse.” Blaise drawled from next to Harry, which set Cedric off again.

“He could have at that.”

“So, you haven't figured it out yet either?”

Cedric glanced around in the least subtle way that Harry had ever witnessed before lowering his voice and whispering, “I wouldn’t say that, no.”

Harry quirked an eyebrow. As much as he wanted to know, Harry was not about to beg answers off of the other boy. Diggory would either tell him or he wouldn’t, Harry was not in the mood to play any sort of games at that point.

Although, just as he suspected given Diggory’s nature, he was not the type to just gloat and continued in an even lower pitch after another unsubtle darting glance around.

“Try taking a bath with it.”

That only made Harry’s brow inch ever higher.

“A bath.” Was he only meant to get the egg wet? Would that reveal its secrets? Like invisible ink?

But then why the screaming? Why the theatrics with the gilded egg at all when it could easily have had a scroll tucked away inside.

“Yeah, a bath. Trust me it’ll work.” Diggory grinned, as if giving cryptic instructions was great fun when all Harry wanted to do was get this entire affair over and done with. Which he could not do efficiently with the type of shite Diggory was trying to pull here. The Hufflepuff could afford to mess about, he’d asked to compete in the Tournament. Harry had not and he was not about to start acting as if any part of it was great fun.

He folded his arms across his chest in that precise manner he had seen his father do on countless occasions and leveled an unimpressed look at Diggory.

“I explained to you exactly what was coming in the First Task and all you’re telling me is I should take a _bath_ with my egg and just _see_ what happens? That’s it?”

Diggory lost his conspiratorial little grin and blinked as if surprised by the coldness creeping into Harry’s tone.

“Yeah, I mean. No, you’re right.” The Hufflepuff rubbed the back of his neck, looking chastised. “Sorry. Just, there’s a message. You can only hear it underwater. So,” he shrugged, “a bath.”

Harry snorted, not dropping his arms but thawing his voice a little. Cedric Diggory was the last person he should really be venting his anger on.

“Alright. Thank you.”

Diggory nodded, some of that boyish enthusiasm returning. “How about you use the Prefect’s bathroom, okay? Password’s: pine fresh, Quidditch Captains get to use it as well. There’s a nice bath in there. Sorry again, Harry.”

“It’s fine.” It wasn’t, not really, but that wasn’t Diggory’s fault either. “Cheers, Cedric.”

“Well, that is certainly interesting.” Blaise commented as the Hufflepuff trotted off, hooking his hand through Harry’s elbow and simultaneously making him drop his arms from there folded position and urging Harry back down the corridor towards Arithmancy. “I’ve always wondered what the Prefect’s bathroom was like. I hear it is exponentially better than what we peons are forced to contend with.”

Harry blinked up at Blaise, “What?”

“Oh, I’m coming with you of course, _caro_. It’s not safe for you to be wandering about alone, after all.” He winked, “Plus, it will irk Draco so that we’ve managed to sneak in there and he hasn’t.”

Harry supposed that made sense, he was just going there to dunk his head in the water. It wouldn’t hurt to have Blaise along. Besides, the Slytherin dorms only came equipped with showers (a fact oft times lamented by Draco and Blaise both) and sinks with large but shallow basins that would not serve his needed purpose in any case.

“Alright. Tonight then, after curfew. I don’t want to get caught trespassing in the middle of the day.”

“Very wise. It’s a date.”

Harry spluttered which only made Blaise laugh and pull him closer as they walked.


	17. Chapter 17

“ _Caro_ ,” Blaise began in a tone of somewhat incredulous exasperation, “are you telling me you've had an _invisibility cloak_ this entire time?”

“Er, yeah.” Harry shrugged.

“And you are just now mentioning it?”

“It didn't seem relevant?” Harry tried, attempting not to wince at the upturn his voice took towards the end and probably failing.

Blaise stuck his face in his palm.

Harry rolled his eyes and busied himself unfolding the worn bit of parchment in his hands. He and Blaise were in the deserted common room, huddled close to the entrance as Harry explained how he intended to get to the Prefect’s bathroom unseen.

Honestly, Harry had not thought much about his Cloak. He used it for late night walks when he was feeling far too restless for even Mind Magic assisted sleep, but not much else lately. It hadn’t really occurred to him that others would not have access to similar artifacts, especially given the general pureblood and wealthy caliber of friends Harry has somehow amassed around himself.

“And what’s this, then?” Blaise gave the parchment in Harry’s hand a slightly haughty sort of look, as if he couldn’t quite abide being near something so outwardly shabby.

“Watch.” Harry smirked, tapping his wand to the parchment and whispering, “ _I solemnly swear I am up to no good._ ”

Black ink bled across the Marauder’s Map like so many spiderwebs. Blaise made a surprised noise and peered closer, leaning heavily on Harry’s shoulder.

“ _Dio mio,_ ” he breathed, running a finger along the familiar lines and turns that formed the convoluted dungeons surrounding them.

Harry scanned the Map as Blaise continued to mutter softly to himself, there wasn’t anybody in the immediate vicinity but Filch was wandering around the library corridors and for some reason Mr. Crouch was in Moody’s office. Why the man was at the school so late in the middle of the week, Harry had no idea. Perhaps he was meeting with Moody about something, both of them had used to work in the Auror Department after all. Whatever it was, Crouch wasn’t moving from the office and so Harry wasn’t all that bothered.

Severus had given Harry the Map back towards the end of the previous term, after it became apparent that Sirius really wasn’t after him. Harry suspected Remus had a hand in convincing his father to part with the Map, but Severus _had_ done so, with the stipulation that Harry not use it to cause too much puerile mayhem. Remus and Sirius had even shown him how to add sections of the school not already detailed on the parchment, to fill out some of the spaces that they had not managed to get to, such as Slytherin House. He couldn’t make more than auxiliary changes to the Map itself, as that would require the permission of all four Marauders, an impossibility for multiple reasons.

Still, he’s been able to add in his dorms and the Chamber of Secrets, the latter of which was more so that his father could watch over Lupin on the moons he spent down there without risking any incidents.

“Harry, this is incredible. Do you have any idea? Where did you even get this?” Blaise brushed a fingertip over the tiny dots that represented them, standing close enough to be nearly indistinguishable if not for the helpful floating labels of _Blaise Zabini_ and _Harry Snape_. Jax’s dot was an inch or so away, where Harry’s bag rested on the runner in front of the doorway.

“My father made it, James Potter I mean. Along with Sirius and Remus and... _Pettigrew_.” Harry very nearly spat out the last name. “When they were in school.”

“Did Sirius give this to you?”

“He probably would have, but no.” Harry snorted. “Oddly enough it was the Weasley twins. They nicked it from Filch’s office, but you didn’t hear that from me. They had no idea who it had originally belonged to, of course. They just felt sorry for me I guess, or grateful, or some unholy meshing of the two.”

“Hmm. Well, let’s get going. It wouldn’t do to waste time.”

Harry snorted but lowered the Map enough to shoulder his bag and throw the Cloak over the pair of them. Blaise was so tall that he had to hunch down a bit so that their feet didn’t poke out like some horrifying disembodied appendages out for a stroll. Harry suspected Blaise did not mind this so much, if the arm comfortably slung around his shoulders was anything to go by. Harry just concentrated on not tripping over his own feet and tried not to notice how warm the back of his neck was.

The trip up to the Prefect’s bathroom was both the most anxious and uneventful walk Harry had ever taken.

“ _Pine fresh_.” Harry whispered at the correct door, relieved when it creaked open and they could step inside and shed the Cloak.

“Now _this_ is a proper bathroom.” Blaise exclaimed with his hands on his hips as he surveyed the softly lit room.

It was all white marble, with sheer drapes covering the high windows and what looked to be an entire swimming pool taking up a large portion of the floor. Lining the pool was an overabundance of golden and bejeweled taps. There was even a diving board at one end. It was all a bit much for Harry but Blaise seemed to be appreciating it enough for the both of them.

Jax poked his head out of the bag when Harry set it down, kneeling on the cold tile to fish for the golden egg whilst Blaise messed around with the taps behind him.

“ _Ooh, this place is nice._ ” The serpent hissed sleepily, bobbing his head as he looked around at all the clean marble and opulence.

“ _You’re spending too much time with Draco._ ” Harry booped his nose and Jax retaliated by licking his finger before retreating back into the depths of the satchel.

Harry grabbed the egg and stood, turning, only to nearly drop the thing on his foot when he saw Blaise had apparently decided that clothes were now an optional thing as he had already shed his robes, shoes, and shirt and now had hands on the fly of his tailored trousers.

Harry made an undignified squeaking sort of sound and spun right back around to stare wide-eyed at the row of ornate sinks lining the far wall.

“Wh-what are you doing?” Harry stammered, just knowing that his face was burning hot and not able to do a thing about it.

“Taking a bath, obviously.” Blaise chuckled and Harry could just _hear_ the smirk in his voice, under the sound of a zipper being drawn down.

“You, I mean, you can’t just--”

“I can’t just let this perfectly drawn bath go to waste? You are completely correct, _caro_.”

There was a splash and then a contented sigh and Harry really, truly, never wanted to move from his spot for the rest of his days. It was fine, he could simply have the house elves bring him his meals and he could make a little nest from the mountain of fluffy towels. It would be perfectly fine.

“Harry, you can turn around, I promise I’m decent. Well, perhaps _decent_ is not the correct word to use, but you can’t see anything scandalous through all the bubbles.”

Harry snorted weakly, his hands had gone a bit sweaty against the golden egg.

Maybe, maybe it would not be so bad if they were out swimming in the Black Lake (as insane an idea as that was given the population of giant squid and other creatures that lurked beneath those murky waves) but this somehow seemed far more intimate a setting. It would have been even before all the... the kissing and dancing and _endearments_.

It was all well and good for Blaise, who was tall and slender instead of short and scrawny. Whose darker skin was a stark contrast against all the smooth white marble, whereas Harry could only assume he would look washed out and sickly at best.

Then there were the other things...

The scars that still riddled his shoulders and back. Remnants of his uncle’s heavy hand with a belt. Nobody should be forced to see that. _Harry_ didn’t even look, actively avoided it in fact. There was a reason he never showered at the same time as the others, or changed in the dorms if there were people in there.

“Harry, you’ll need to get wet to hear that egg in any case,” Blaise cajoled, “why not take advantage of the facilities while you’re at it?”

There was the sound of more splashing and Harry glared at the sinks as if this entire situation were their bejeweled fault.

“Here, I promise to turn around, no peeking. You can just slip in under the bubbles and all modesty will be preserved.”

Harry sighed, it was a losing battle he knew. He hated how vulnerable the entire situation made him feel. How itchy under his skin. He should be able to do this. He should not be to _weak_. It was an idiotic thing to be so put off by and there would be no progress towards overcoming the unease if he never tried. If he just kept letting the Dursleys control every aspect of his life even after he’d escaped from under their shadow _years_ ago. Harry was not an unwanted orphan anymore. He was not a burden to be punished as such. He had a father that loved him and friends that truly cared and... and he had Blaise, whatever this thing between them was. 

Harry took a slow, stuttering inhale, scraping together a thin layer of Occlumency to calm his crawling skin and pounding heart. Pushing away what ill-thoughts he could with a somewhat smoother exhale. A glance over his shoulder did show Blaise treading water and facing the large painting of a sleeping mermaid. And there _was_ quite a dense field of foamy bubbles covering the entirety of the oversized bath.

“Fine,” Harry grumbled, surprised at how steady it came out “don’t turn around until I say.”

“On my honor, _tesoro_.”

Harry thought that sounded a bit smug, but truthful nonetheless, so he reluctantly set the egg down on the edge of the bath and shrugged out of his robes. He hesitated on pulling off his shirt, fingers fiddling with the fine fabric before just yanking the thing off before he could second guess himself. His boots made thunking noises against the tiled floor and his trousers were in more of heap than anything. Harry kept his pants on and until proven otherwise was assuming the same of Blaise.

Not that he wanted to be proven otherwise.

No. _Merlin_ , no.

Harry carefully approached the edge of the pool, there was visible steam rising in silver ringlets and the entire thing smelled nicely of almonds. When he dipped his toes in, the water was a pleasantly warm temperature, not too hot, not too cold.

It was only after Harry had finally slipped gently into the pool that he realised another glaring issue with the entire endeavor.

He did not know how to swim.

And given the fact that his short legs were not even coming close to brushing the bottom of the bath, Harry thought it was quite an inconvenient and mildly irritating truth.

He kicked weakly in the warm water and tried not to inhale too many bubbles when it caused him to bob erratically.

“Alright, _caro_?” Blaise called, floating serenely in place.

Harry snorted, a fluffy chunk of almond scented bubbles flying up. He gripped the edge of the bath with one hand and braced his feet as well as he could against the sides while still attempting to stay as far down under the cover of the bubbles and water as he was able.

“Fine.” Harry lied, but he doubted the bubbles and warmth of the bathwater would last long enough for it to turn truth.

Blaise did an elegant sort of roll that turned into a smooth glide through the sea of bubbles until he was floating next to Harry with far too satisfied a look on his face.

“There’s foam in your hair.” Harry muttered, if only to distract the other boy from focusing entirely on him.

Blaise just smirked, “That does tend to happen when one takes a bath, darling.”

Harry flicked water at him, Blaise only called people _darling_ when he was being extra sarcastic.

Blaise retaliated by scooping up a heap of scented bubbled and depositing them on Harry’s own head.

“An improvement, I think.” Blaise nodded, rubbing his chin with a discerning air.

Harry narrowed his eyes. Contriving the best possible way to go about dunking the other boy without having to relinquish his hold on the side of the bath, when Blaise dashed all his nascent machinations but pressing a damp kiss to his nose.

“You’re cute when you’re plotting.”

Harry huffed, rolling his eyes and determined to blame his heated cheeks on the warmth of the water.

Blaise gilded back a few paces, drifting through the water as if he were born to it.

“Why don’t you come away from the wall, _caro_? It seems a waste to stay huddled up in one little corner.”

“I can’t swim.” Harry muttered darkly, sinking an inch or so further down.

“Truly?” Blaise asked, genuine surprise in his tone.

“I never had occasion to learn,” Harry snorted, “not all of us live by the sea, surrounded by beaches and sunshine.”

“Shame that.” Blaise sighed, but glided back over all the same. “Here, take my hand.”

Harry eyed the outstretched appendage warily, not all that keen on letting go of his perch. But then again, Blaise was giving him that soft smile and Harry found himself obeying.

It seemed an impossible thing that Blaise's hand was warmer than the surrounding water, or perhaps it was just Harry's inability to focus on much else beside the gentle touch that made it appear so.

“You'll have to let go with your other hand as well, _caro_. I promise I won’t let you sink.” 

Harry blinked, unaware that he had grabbed on with his free hand. His self-preservation instincts seemed to have finally started kicking in, his father would be pleased.

With far more effort than it should have probably taken, Harry uncurled his fingers from the tiled edge of the pool. They did not like that one bit and immediately sought out a new source of ballast, finding the slippery form of Blaise’s other forearm. Which meant that they were now freed entirely from anything solid. A reality that Harry’s legs did not seem all too keen on as they started flailing about at once, and he should really have better control of his limbs by that point in his life...

“Easy, Harry, easy. I’ve got you.” Blaise’s soft timber broke through his burgeoning panic and Harry stared up at him with wide eyes. His glasses were fogging up and he really should have left them back with his clothes, but he was already feeling vulnerable enough without adding blindness into the mix.

“Easy. Little kicks, just enough to keep you stable. You aren’t going to sink, I promise.”

Blaise squeezed him gently to emphasise the point and Harry did his best to calm down his errant legs. It did not help that they kept brushing up against Blaise’s own under the water, but he was going to ignore that for the moment. Or forever. Whichever was more convenient.

“See, _tesoro_? Not so hard.”

Harry grunted, unwilling to concede the point. They were drifting further and further away from the bath’s edge, mountains of foam splitting around them like clouds to reform in their wake. They drifted quietly for a few more moments before Blaise spoke again.

“I think you’ve mastered this step quite handily,” Blaise smirked, but softened the teasing with a second unexpected kiss, this one on his right cheek. “Now let’s see how you float.”

“We’re already floating,” Harry huffed.

“Yes, _we_.” Blaise retorted.

“ _I’m_ floating just fine.”

“Perfect, so you will have no problem doing so on your own.”

“Wah-- Blaise, no--”

Harry redoubled his grip on the other boy from where it had slackened even as Blaise let go with a snicker. He grabbed hold again a second later, still chuckling, but Harry kicked him in the shin anyway.

It only made Blaise laugh louder.

“You are such a berk.” Harry glared.

‘I know, I'm sorry, _caro_.” He demurred, sending Harry a masterfully crafted look of remorse that took full advantage of his warm brown eyes and pouting mouth. “Can you ever forgive me?”

Harry shoved a handful of bubbles into the other boy's ridiculous face. Given that he'd had to relinquish one of his handholds to do so, Harry felt it was quite a feat.

Blaise spluttered and laughed, dunking under the water a moment to clear the soap from his eyes before resurfacing with a smirk.

“Just as I suspected,” Blaise squeezed where their remaining hands were joined, “you float marvelously. You only lacked proper motivation.”

It was only then that Harry realised he was indeed treading water under his own power. He rolled his eyes, though he did feel secretly pleased in spite of it all.

Blaise drifted closer once more, their feet brushing under the water.

“Here, try laying on your back, nice and relaxing.” He demonstrated, spreading his long limbs out under the thankfully still dense layers of foam. His curls, soaked through by the bathwater spread out around his head like some sort of halo and Harry had that itching urge to touch them once more.

To distract himself Harry attempted to follow suit, if anything he would be forced to stare at the high ceilings.

It did not go quite so well as he would have hoped. When Harry tried to roll up onto his back as he’d seen Blaise do with ease, he nearly tipped right over again and only Blaise's hand in his kept Harry from complete disaster.

“Whoa there, Harry. Capsizing is not ideal.”

“Oh really?” Harry snarked, “I thought it was a great strategy.”

“Hold still, you need to keep your shoulders level and not move too quickly. Here.”

Then there was a hand bracing against the back of his thigh and lifting, which had Harry so distracted that he didn’t notice Blaise’s other hand releasing his own to spread across the dip between his shoulders.

“What are you--” Harry tried to squirm away, but only managed an awkward sort of flail.

“Shh, relax. I have you.”

Harry was very much aware of that, thank you. He didn't want to do this anymore. He didn’t want Blaise touching his shoulders, feeling how rough the skin was in places it should not be. He didn’t want questions or demands or... or _pity_.

He didn’t want Blaise to realise just how messed up he really was. How damaged beyond what the other boy already knew about him, which was far more than anybody besides his father and the very limited number of people involved in the Dursley’s trial. This, this just might be the thing that tipped him too far into the not-worth-the-trouble category.

“Harry, stop. Harry...”

But he didn’t stop, he wiggled out of Blaise’s grip and pushed away, putting a dense layer of bubbles between them and attempting to bring his suddenly panicked breathing and flailing limbs under control before he sunk like a stone.

“Harry, _tesoro_ , I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to...” Blaise trailed off, his apology sounding far more sincere than earlier, his face stricken and confused in a way that had Harry hating himself all over again.

“It’s not,” he tried when he managed to finally catch a decent breath, “it’s not you. I mean, you didn’t do anything. It’s... it’s not _you_.”

It was the best he could do. Harry tread water and frowned and tried to get his skin to stop crawling. It wasn’t fair, they’d been having a perfectly fine time. Why did his stupid brain always have to ruin everything?

“Harry?” Blaise murmured, voice soft and slow like Harry was an animal easily spooked. He probably _was_. “Can I come closer?”

“I don’t know.” Harry replied honestly.

“That’s okay, why don’t we try? I can always move back if you need me to.”

“Okay.”

Harry eyed the other boy warily as he inched closer through the water. He didn’t feel the sudden urge to flee, as he’d half expected, but he was relieved when Blaise did not try to reach out for him.

“Hi.” He smiled at Harry, it was a somewhat tremulous thing, reflective of Harry’s own unease at the turn of mood. Oddly enough, it helped to calm him a little.

“Hey.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.” Harry answered dully, heaving a thick breath and letting it out in stutters.

“We don’t have to, then.” It sounded so simple, so easy.

They could just continue on as if Harry hadn’t just made an utter fool of himself over a brush against his shoulders. As if Blaise could just pretend nothing had happened. That Harry wasn’t fractured and cracked outside and in.

Maybe he could.

But Harry couldn’t. It would plague him and drag him down and force a wedge between them that he knew would be entirely of his own making. It might take longer, if he agreed to it, if he kept silent. They could keep on with the shy kisses and the hand holding and the pet names. But eventually Harry would withdraw into himself, unable to keep up the facade that everything was fine.

It would be better if Blaise left him before he got too attached (as if that had not already happened), it would hurt less. He was sure it would. How could it hurt _more_?

It would certainly be fairer to Blaise. The other boy should know exactly what he was getting into here. That Harry was hardly worth the effort.

So he took another shuddering breath and looked anywhere but at Blaise as he spoke with as little inflection as he could manage.

“Before Hogwarts, before I was sent to live with Severus, I lived with my mother’s sister and her family.”

“Harry, you don’t have to tell me...”

“I think I do, Blaise. So just, let me. Okay?”

“Alright.” Blaise did not sound convinced but he didn’t raise any more objections either, so Harry continued.

“They weren’t kind. Not to me. They doted on their own son as if he were Christ reborn, although the Dursleys never set foot in a church unless it was deemed socially advantageous. They didn’t like me, is what I’m saying. I was a burden to them and a freak besides. They were muggles, I was dumped on their front step without so much as a by your leave, so I can’t really blame them entirely for their disposition.”

Blaise made a derisive sound but didn’t interrupt for which Harry was grateful, he did not think he would be able to get it out if it wasn’t all in one go.

“So, they didn’t like me and they had no issues showing it. Whether it was by locking me in my cupboard, denying me food, or my uncle’s preferred method of just trying to beat the _freakishness_ out of me. Did you know? I’d never slept in a real bed before coming to Hogwarts? Not that I remember anyway, I suppose I must have had one when my birth parents were alive. It was a bit of a revelation, I could understand why they’d want to keep such a luxury away from me.”

He risked a glance at Blaise, the stricken look was back, but under it was a cold fury that hurt a little to even see so Harry quickly looked away again.

“It was better after I found Jax, or I suppose when he decided to stay with me. He’d only just hatched, his mother had come up to me in my aunt’s garden. She needed help giving birth. I hid her in the garden shed, I was only about eight I think. When the babies were all big enough to leave, Jax decided to stay with me. I don’t know how I would have managed until Hogwarts if he hadn’t.”

Harry did not even want to think about what he would have done without the serpent in his life. He never would have met Mr. Jacobi, or even know he was a wizard until his letter came. If he would have even believed the letter. Perhaps Petunia would have snatched it up before Harry could even get a look. He remembered how cagy she had started acting the summer before his first year. She knew the letter was coming and Harry would bet every last galleon in his Gringotts vault that she would have torn the thing to shreds without even a second thought.

What would have happened then? Would the school have sent someone to fetch him? Harry might have liked to see Severus show up on Number Four’s doorstep and the subsequent fit his aunt would no doubt have fallen into because of it.

“The point,” Harry began again, “the point is that I’m pretty messed up. Which I think you already knew, a bit. I’m... better now. Than I was. I don’t nick food anymore, although that was a pretty hard habit to shake. I have control over my nightmares for the most part. I usually manage not to flinch away from people... unless, unless I’m not expecting it. Or I’m already feeling a bit vulnerable. Or... or shirtless in a bath with my boyfriend and afraid that he’ll feel my scars and start to ask questions that don’t have very nice answers.”

That was it. That was all that Harry could manage to force out of his closed up throat as his heart had decided to take residence inside of it. There were tears pricking hotly at the corners of his eyes and his glasses were water splattered and fogged up enough that he could hide behind that excuse for not meeting Blaise’s eye; at least for a moment.

“Harry.” Blaise murmured, sounding so close that he had to look up.

“I’m sorry. You never asked for this. I’m sorry, I should never have--”

“ _Harry_ ,” Blaise interrupted his rambling apology softly, holding a dripping hand up out of the water. “I want to touch you, is that okay?”

Harry would have frozen up completely if that didn’t mean sinking like a stone to the bottom of the pool.

“I don’t know. Why would you-- after everything I just--?”

“ _Harry._ ” Blaise murmured again, brushing a warm thumb over Harry's cheek where he knew there had to be an unsightly trail of leaked tears before settling his palm more firmly against the back of Harry’s neck and pulling him gently forward through the water. “ _Tesoro._ You are so strong, you have no idea.”

Then he was placing a third kiss to Harry’s face, this one directly against his lips and so soft and genuine that Harry was sure he was crying again.

“ _Blaise_ , you can’t want... not after...”

“I can and I do. I do not care how stubborn you are determined to be about this, Harry James Snape, but I will push back just as hard.”

And that was just like Blaise. He saw Harry like so few other people did. Had done since their first year. He _saw_ Harry and he did not turn away. And he would not allow Harry to do the pushing either, to hide away like he very much wanted to. No, he pulled Harry close and rested their foreheads together. Matching his breathing to Harry’s and slowing it, allowing the warmth and calm of the bath to soothe away his bunched up anxiety.

Harry did not think he would ever be able to smell almonds again without thinking of this moment.

Harry did not know how long they floated like that but by the time Blaise spoke once more, the tension had bled from his spin for the most part and his heart had returned to a normal rhythm.

“Tell me one thing, _caro_?” Blaise murmured against his temple, his hands firm where they held Harry by the shoulders.

“What?”

“Those muggles, the reason you were placed with Snape?”

“Azkaban. Forty years. My uncle, he died there actually. Sirius told me.”

“Good.” There was a steely venom in Blaise’s voice that should have frightened Harry, given the implications. But Harry had killed a man in his first year, it was actually something of a comfort to know he was not alone in feeling that dark necessity. As awful as that probably made the pair of them, at least they were a pair.

Harry stole a kiss of his own, fleeting and off-centered, but it got the point across well enough.

“Shall we listen to that egg, then?” Blaise asked sometime later, they had finally managed to float on their backs, hands linked together like a pair of otters Harry had seen a picture of once in a book. Drifting lazily across the surface of the bath as the bubbles slowly dissipated around them.

He had nearly forgotten the purpose of their trip to the Prefect’s bathroom amidst all the drama and unexpected revelations.

“I suppose we ought to at that.”

They paddled over to where Harry had left the golden egg on the edge of the pool. Well, _Harry_ paddled, Blaise glided smoothly through the water.

“Ready?” He asked, taking a deep breath as Blaise did the same and they ducked under.

Harry closed his eyes against the sting of soap (and to preserve his assumption that Blaise was wearing _something_ at least), feeling along the seam of the egg and prying it open. There was a glugging sound of released air before an eerie song made itself know.

“ _Come seek us where our voices sound,  
We cannot sing above the ground,  
And while you’re searching, ponder this:  
We’ve taken what you’ll sorely miss,  
An hour long you’ll have to look,  
And to recover what we took,  
But past an hour – the prospect’s black  
Too late, it’s gone, it won’t come back._”

Harry was able to listen to the song twice through before having to surface for air. He shared a look with Blaise, who was staring at the egg with distaste.

“So, you’ll have an hour to find something that they are going to steal from you.”

“That sounds like the kind of shady thing they’d pull.” Harry agreed, heaving the egg out of the water and back onto the tiles. “I doubt they’d really keep it, whatever they take. It just a bit of dramatics to make you keep to the time limit.”

“My thoughts precisely. Rude though.”

“Very.”

They snickered before Harry sobered up and sighed.

“It’s gotta mean the lake, doesn’t it?”

“Probably.” Blaise grimaced. “I hear there are merpeople down there. I bet that’s Mermish screeching out of the egg. Explains why you can only understand it underwater.”

“Does it though?” Harry asked, squinting at the egg, “I mean, it’s the same sounds in or out of the water. Why would it sound like English one way but not the other?”

Blaise sent him a look, “Harry, you talk to snakes and it sounds like English to you.”

“Oh, yeah. Er, right. Magical language, just don’t question it.”

“Exactly.”

“I still can’t swim for shite, or breath underwater. I’m betting that’ll be necessary.”

“We’ll figure it out, _caro_. We have some time.”

“What are they thinking, making us dive into the Black Lake in _February_.”

“You know, I don’t think they were doing much thinking at all.”

They snickered again.

“What do you think they’ll take, though? What will you _sorely miss_ the most?”

“Jax.” Harry answered immediately, “But I’ll leave the school, contract be damned, if they try and lay a finger on my snake.”

There was an edge to his voice that spoke a harsh truth. Harry would take any blow to his magical core if it meant protecting Jax.

“He never leaves your side, Harry. They can’t take what they can’t find.”

That was true, and Harry would make sure Jax knew not to wander around, even in the dorms. They were all touched in the head if they thought he would give Jax up any sort of easy.

“Alright, I think that is just about all the bathtime I can stand.” Blaise said, bracing himself against the pool’s edge and heaving up out of the water.

Harry hastily closed his eyes again and faced away, his cheeks burning.

Blaise chuckled and Harry scowled but doubted it was very effective.

There was a rustle of what he assumed to be terrycloth before the other boy said, “I’m decent, you can open your eyes, darling.”

Harry snorted but did so, if only to roll them at Blaise. Who was hardly _decent_ , but at least mostly covered from the waist down in fluffy towel. He was rubbing another over his thick curls, ringing excess water from them before draping that towel over his shoulders and splashing a hair potion onto his fingers to run through the jumble.

“Would you like to help?” Blaise asked, smirking ever so slightly as Harry realised he’d been staring.

He shook his head in a decisive (and completely false) negative and looked away determinedly.

“The offer stands, _caro_. Anytime.”

“Er, right.” Harry croaked.

He pulled himself out of the bath when Blaise graciously turned around and headed for the pile of towels himself.

He’d not brought a change of clothes, as Harry had foolishly assumed he would not need them. But it wasn’t as if his old clothes were filthy. He could change when they got back to the dorms. Even if Blaise tisked at him for it.

A quick check of the Marauder’s Map showed that his father was patrolling the corridors now, but not anywhere near them. Crouch was still at the castle for some reason that Harry did not care to know as he was also not in their path down to the dungeons.

“This thing is remarkable, Harry. Have I said that yet? Imagine the possibilities.”

“You just want to keep sneaking up here to use this bath.”

Blaise faked a gasp, splaying a hand over his chest in mock indignation.

“You wound me, Harry. Truly.”

“Uh-huh. Now get under the Cloak before Filch decides he wants to have a midnight stroll up here.”

The trip back down to Slytherin House was as uneventful as the one leaving, for which Harry was grateful. He had far too much to think about without adding any more hiccups into the mix. Blaise kissed him goodnight, which was nice. And probably far more than Harry deserved, but he was not about to argue to point when it left him feeling so content inside. He could keep that for himself, at least for a little while. And maybe one day it would not feel so undeserved.


	18. Chapter 18

“So, you've an hour to search the Black Lake for something. That doesn't sound _too_ horrendous a Task.” Draco mused unhelpfully.

They were in an empty classroom, discussing what Harry had learned from the golden egg and what he might be able to do to prepare for the upcoming trial. Blaise was there too, sitting atop an abandoned desk next to Harry. Draco had done a bit of tricky transfiguration work on another pair of desks so that they fused together and became cushioned so that he could lounge on them with his head in Neville's lap, much like Maximus the cat demanding pets. Neville looked torn between fond exasperation and bashful acceptance of the importune nature of his boyfriend. The Gryffindor certainly did not hesitate over long before granting the hair stroking that was so obviously being demanded of him, even as his ears went a bit red.

Millicent was in another corner of the room, fiddling with the skate deck Harry had gifted her at Christmas, she'd yet to managed a sustained hovering charm but was not deterred in the least. Justin was sat on the flagstones next to her and smiling far too brightly. Then again, Harry was unsure if Justin even knew how to tone down his natural exuberance.

Harry’s father was not there, as he had to supervise a detention, but Harry would speak with him later. At the moment, he was busy leveling Draco with a _look_.

“There is a _giant squid_ in there.”

“I’m sure they’ll cordon him off, if only for the squid’s protection.”

“There are grindylows, and selkies, and Merlin knows what else lurking down there. Not to mention the _merpeople_.”

Harry had spent a good portion of that morning just staring out the large windows in the common room that looked out into the Black Lake. It had been too early for there to be much light penetration, so he was mostly just looking at his own pale reflection in the glass. It had not helped.

“I... see your point.” Draco conceded.

“Not to mention,” Harry continued, feeling a bit of a rant coming on and unable to prevent it from overflowing, “I still don’t know how to swim. Or how I’m meant to spend an hour in the Black Lake without freezing to death. Or drowning for that matter, as I’m sure whatever they feel the need to steal from me won’t be conveniently floating on the surface. Or--”

A hand taking his own in a firm grip forestalled whatever Harry was going to say next. Blaise leaned heavily into his side and murmured, “Breathe, _caro_ , we will figure this out. One problem at a time.”

Harry took a deep, shuddering breath and closed his eyes against everything. Just for a moment. Just so he could concentrate on Blaise’s hand in his and nothing else. At the way their fingers so easily meshed, as if made for that singular purpose.

It did not help much, but not much was still better than not at all.

“One problem at a time.” Harry repeated, opening his eyes.

“Problem number one: swimming. An easy solution,” Blaise winked at him, “we just return to the bath and I teach you.”

Harry managed not to flush too brightly, but that was mostly because Draco was making a petulant sound and drawing most of the attention away from him.

“It is completely unfair that you two were able to sneak your way into the Prefect’s bathroom.”

Draco had not been best pleased when he’d learned that bit of information, perhaps due in part to the smirking way Blaise had delivered it. And the fact that the other boy would not reveal the password unless Draco agreed to some number of unnamed favors to be called upon Blaise’s discretion. Draco had huffed and pouted and made a show of refusing, but Harry gave the blonde a week before he broke down and agreed to terms.

“And breathing underwater?”

“There’s the Bubble-Head Charm.” Millicent suggested, poking at the board in her lap with her wand and frowning slightly.

“I’m pants at Charms, you know that. I don’t fancy relying on that particular skill set while also fighting off who knows what underwater.”

“Something you’re not pants at, then.” Justin suggested brightly.

“I suppose I could brew a Water Breathing potion,” Harry murmured, thinking back to what was required of one, “they take a good while to make. Two weeks at least and are a bit tricky at a few points. If you aren’t careful you could end up cutting the effectiveness of the potion significantly without realising until it’s too late and you start inhaling water in a bad way.”

Which, of course, just made Harry want to attempt it even more. Challenging potions were far more satisfying to brew correctly, the trickier the better.

Still, it was perhaps not something he should be gambling his life with. The intrinsic pride he held in his own abilities with a cauldron notwithstanding. Perhaps he should let his father brew it? Or at least monitor his progress.

“Why not just use gillyweed?” Neville asked quietly from his place still stroking gently through Draco’s hair.

“There is gillyweed in the potion, yes.” Harry blinked, “How did you know that?”

Neville was far and away a better brewer than his somewhat explosive first year, and he was a deft hand at the theory when pressed, but Harry knew the Gryffindor did not care for the subject in general. At least, not as Harry did. Or perhaps he cared more for the herbalist side of things and how that meshed with his true interests.

“No, I mean instead of brewing the potion, just eat some gillyweed. It will let you breathe underwater for long enough to get back what you need.”

“Really?” Harry cocked an eyebrow.

“Yeah, it’s a _fascinating_ plant. Mediterranean. There’s a bit of a debate among herbologists about the effectiveness of it in fresh water versus salt, but either way you should have plenty of time. There are a few different varieties as well and you definitely need it fresh and not dried, of course.” Neville said excitedly, his hands abandoning their task to wave about and emphasise his words, much to the chagrin of Draco, judging by his pout. “You eat it, give it a moment, and then you’ll have gills and webbed fingers and toes. I think it should also help against the coldness in the lake.”

“That’s brilliant, Neville.” Harry said honestly, the relief at such an easy solution evident in his voice, “You’re brilliant.”

Neville blushed, grinning bashfully.

“He is, isn’t he?” Draco agreed, grabbing ahold of the Gryffindor’s red and gold striped tie and pulling him down for a kiss that just had Neville flushing even worse.

“Ugh,” Millicent grunted, rolling her eyes at the display, “I swear to Merlin all my teeth will have rotted out by the end of the year, being surrounded by so much unrelenting saccharinity.”

“You say that as if I did not witness just this morning you and Justin huddled close together and listening to his weird angry muggle music,” Draco drawled, not looking the least put out even as Neville ducked his still red face. “I swear you were even _smiling_ a bit, all snuggled up as the pair of you were.”

“They might have even been _holding hands_.” Blaise added with an amused smirk, squeezing Harry's own hand still in his even as he spoke.

Millicent just rolled her eyes again and grumbled a bit, Justin smiled like there was absolutely nothing to be even marginally embarrassed about. Harry envied that a bit, wished he knew how to roll through social situations with such ease and confidence. Maybe it was a Hufflepuff thing. Or a Justin thing.

The discussion dissolved a bit after that, but Harry did not mind so much. He had the beginnings of a plan and that had lifted a vast cloud from over his head. He would be able to traverse the lake, perhaps not _well_ , but he would not drown. Now all he really had to worry about were all the things that lived in the lake.

A one point Harry might have assumed that there could not be anything too terrible down there or else they would never have assigned this Task. But they had sent them after angry mother dragons in the first one, so Harry was not about to trust in any of the judges' senses of appropriate levels of danger to put schoolchildren into.

So he would study the history of the Black Lake, try and get a handle on what to expect. It would also probably be prudent to look up information on merpeople and how to interact with them.

There was a little over a month before the Second Task and Harry was not about to waste a second of that time. He would be as prepared as possible. He would keep Jax at his side more strictly in the intervening time. His serpent would not be taken from him, that was a thing that Harry simply would _not_ allow. No matter the consequences.

~~~~~~~>

Severus Snape narrowed his eyes down at the slip of parchment that had flared into existence over the fifth year essays he was marking. It was a summons from the Headmaster.

Severus had been expecting as much for a span of days as the Second Task drew ever closer, the night beforehand was cutting things a little close. Albus was ever fond of his dramatics and secrets.

Abandoning his work, Severus made use of the Floo in lieu of walking the distance through the castle. He wished to get this conversation over with more than he wished to irk the Headmaster by taking his time in responding to the summons. Severus well knew that Albus was far too centered to let such a slight bother him, if he even acknowledged it as such. Therefore, Severus was not about to waste his own precious time with the effort.

“Severus, my boy, thank you so much for coming. Lemon drop?” Albus twinkled at him as he stepped from the Floo in a wash of green sparks.

“No thank you, Headmaster. You wished to see me? I assume it is about the upcoming Task tomorrow.”

“Ever the astute one you are, Severus. Have a seat. Yes, there is a bit of a hitch in the proceedings that I had hoped you might assist me with.”

Severus took a seat, if only to forestall any arguments on the matter. At the Headmaster’s words he simply raised an eyebrow.

“As I am sure you are aware, the Second Task involves the temporary appropriation of something precious to the Champion. The thing they hold _most_ dearly, in fact.”

Severus remained silent, the Headmaster would say what he meant in time. He was not in any sort of mood to play guessing games with the old man. Although, Severus was sure he already knew exactly the thing to which Albus referred. He also knew that there was no way his son would ever allow such a thing to pass.

The Headmaster eyed him as Severus continued to remain silent, stroking his long beard.

Albus was the first to break, “The method used to determine that which a Champion holds most dear has revealed the boy’s familiar, as I am sure you may have already guessed.”

“And you wish me to retrieve the serpent?”

“If you would be so kind, Severus.”

“No.”

“Pardon?” Albus blinked, seeming genuinely thrown by the refusal. Severus held in the satisfied smirk that wished to make itself known, it was not often that he was able to surprise the Headmaster.

“My son has made it exceedingly clear that should any move be made to apprehend his familiar, he will disavow the contest in its entirety and take whatever consequences may come. I will not allow harm to befall him in such a manner.”

“Surely you can convince Harry otherwise. The participants will be in no danger while they wait for their Champion.”

 _And what of the Champions themselves?_ Severus mused darkly.

“He will not be swayed and if you attempt to acquire the serpent by other means, I have already informed you of the consequences of such actions.”

“Hmm, very well. We shall simply have to try the method again. There is precedence for this, although rare, and a secondary choice may be made in the instance that the first is not available.” Albus did not seem overly pleased at having to compromise, but Severus was not overly concerned about what pleased the man. Not anymore. Not for a long time.

He watched silently as the Headmaster made his way to a corner of the round office that held a number of intricate magical instruments. He brought one in the shape of a small silver basin with intricately carved sides, almost pensieve-like. There was no liquid in the basin, however, no foggy swirl of memories. Simply a highly polished surface that reflected the ceiling of the office.

“Let us see Harry’s _second_ most precious thing, shall we?” Albus hmm’d, running the tip of his wand along the edge of the small basin.

Severus did not like the casual nature with which the Headmaster took to spying out the private thoughts and feelings of others, but he could not say he was especially _surprised_.

The basin began to ring with a fluctuating tone as Albus continued to circle its edge with his wand. First high pitched, then low, somewhat like tuning a muggle radio. It leveled out eventually as the mirrored insides of the basin grew murky and nebulous before resolving into an image of himself.

It was Severus’ turn to blink, a frisson of strong emotion zinging down his spine. He should not be so surprised, he knew Harry cared for him. The boy would never have agreed to the adoption otherwise. Would not actively seek out his attention or approval. Would not refer to him as _Dad_ on those few precious occasions that he had done so.

Still, there was knowing and then there was _knowing_.

Severus was very cognizant of the fact that the pair of them had very similar problems expressing such things. So he did not push, he gave his son the space he needed and accepted whatever affection the boy could muster as best he was able. He acknowledged that they would never be so overtly loving as say, the Weasleys, but that did not mean they held each other any less dear.

To see evidence of it, however, so plain and incontrovertible. It made Severus equal parts warmly pleased and viciously irate with the Headmaster that he was witness to such a thing that should be private.

“Well, that is certainly something.” Albus chuckled, as if the entire thing were something to be mocked.

Severus very carefully did not blast the infernal basin to bits.

“Another impossibility, Headmaster.” He said instead, voice a low murmur of steady calm that he had cultivated over years of dealing with unrelenting irritants. “I must be present to watch over the proceedings. I cannot be rendered indisposed whilst we still do not have any indication as to the purpose of putting my son’s name into the Goblet.”

“Indeed not, my boy.” The Headmaster agreed with a twinkle, passing his hand over the basin and leaving behind a cleanly mirrored surface once more. “Although, I am sure the school would have found much entertainment from such an outcome.”

Severus allowed himself a scowl at that, even as Albus began circling the instrument once more.

“Third time’s the charm, eh?”

In another unsurprising twist, Mr. Zabini was revealed next.

“There we are, I expect there are no legitimate objections to this?”

Severus shook his head, he was certain that Mr. Zabini would not be best pleased to be tossed into the Black Lake, but it was the least terrible of the options so far.

“Very good, have Mr. Zabini come up here after lunch tomorrow. He will join Miss Granger, Miss Chang, and the younger Miss Delacour.”

“As you say, Headmaster. If that is all? I have a number of papers to mark.”

“Of course, Severus, I would not wish to keep you from your work. I shall see you tomorrow, do give Harry my best, won’t you?”

Severus made no promises, he knew quite well what sort of reaction such a declaration would draw from his son.

He wasted no time in availing himself of the Floo once more but did not continue on with the essays. He instead retired to his quarters for a strong cup of tea and a few moments of quiet contemplation wherein he allowed himself to feel the full satisfaction of knowing his son cared so deeply for him.

The following day found the school once more awash in excitement over the Tournament. Severus forwent any practicals, knowing the disasters that surely awaited so many distracted students. He had no desire to be subject to melted cauldrons or indistinguishable muck pretending at being a potion. So, a lecture it was. And perhaps a heavy hand with regards towards point removal until the students learned to settle down and pay attention.

There were to be no afternoon classes that day, as the Second Task was taking priority over the children’s education.

It was easy enough to separate Mr. Zabini from his son, as the boy was far too preoccupied with making sure nobody came near his familiar to notice much else.

“It’s me, then, isn’t it?” Zabini stated more than asked as they walked up an empty corridor.

“Evidently.”

“That’s a little flattering,” the boy smirked, “although Harry was sure it would be Jax.”

“It was.” Severus conceded, “I informed the Headmaster that such an action would be far more detrimental than he would perhaps be willing to risk.”

“Good. I don’t want to see Harry hurting himself over this idiotic Tournament.”

“On that point we are agreed, Mr. Zabini.”

“Still, if not Jax. Then I wouldn’t think I’d be the next in line.” Zabini continued, showing uncustomary humbleness.

“You would be correct once more,” Severus admitted, if only because he was aware that the boy knew the meaning of discretion. “It would hardly be practical for myself to be so indisposed.”

“Third place is not so bad. It's nice to know that Harry really does care and isn't just humoring me.”

“Did you believe that to be the case?” Severus asked carefully, it was not like Zabini to be self-deprecating.

“No...” the boy answered slowly, staring ahead of them with a faraway sort of look in his eyes. “Not exactly. But he can be hard to read, sometimes, a lot of the time really. When it involves things deeper than the surface. I would not blame him if he wished to stop things. If he felt I was not worth the trouble of venturing so far out of his comfort zone.”

Severus slowed their walk. He had an inkling that Zabini had not meant to reveal so very much of his own misgivings. The boy was always so outwardly confident much of the time, it was sometimes easy to forget the sort of home he came from. It was not altogether unsurprising that his insecurities would manifest in such a manner. Severus well knew how cold his mother tended to be. Her seemingly endless stream of lovers, whilst a perfectly fine way to live one's own life, did tend to set a sort of precedent on impressionable minds.

Severus would not be unsurprised to learn what Blaise Zabini craved most above all else in a partner to be emotional intimacy. A difficult enough thing to acquire as an adult, let alone at the tumultuous age of fourteen. Especially given the reticence of one's chosen affection.

“Harry,” Severus began softly, he had not been quite prepared to be giving this sort of talk when he came to collect the boy. As Head of Slytherin House, he had occasionally been called upon for advice on similar matters, after all, this was a confusing time for many children (although thankfully, he was not many people’s first choice in such areas). It had just not quite occurred to him that he would have to have it about his own son. “Harry is cautious above all else, as I am sure you have realised.”

“Yes, I had noticed that.” Zabini said with a dry slant of a smile.

“Patience, I have found, is the key. Give him time and space and Harry will eventually come to understand that you are truly serious.” He leveled a foreboding look at the boy, a task made easier given Zabini’s height that he had definitely inherited from his mother. “You _are_ serious?”

“Yes. I am.” Zabini dropped any semblance of a smile and simply nodded gravely. He did not back down from Severus’ glare or shrink away from an uncomfortable and awkward admission.

Harry could do far worse than Blaise Zabini.

They continued down the corridor in silence for a few moments more before the boy spoke again, quiet and with an undercurrent of something dark.

“Harry told me about his childhood. A little. About why he came to live with you.”

“Did he now?” Severus quirked a surprised eyebrow.

“How could that have been allowed to happen? How did you stop yourself from killing those muggles?”

“Trust placed in the wrong places and a vast amount of willing ignorance on many parts. I did not know what was happening to Harry because I had no desire to know, not until he came to Hogwarts and I was forced to open my eyes to it. It is not a thing I am proud of, nor do I believe I will ever forgive myself for it.” He cut a narrow look at Zabini, whose expression had become closed off and hardened. “As for the muggles... I confess that it took a great effort of will to stay my hand. I would have very much prefered a violent end to their existence on this earth. But to do so would have made it far more difficult to care for Harry as I knew he needed. Subtlety and proper manipulation of situations often times garners better results than rushing in with blind fire and brimstone.”

Zabini gave a reluctant nod at that, his Slytherin sensibilities showing through.

“That Harry spoke of it willingly shows a great deal of trust. You should take that to heart Mr. Zabini, it is proof enough how dear Harry holds you in his eyes.”

“Yes, sir.”

They had reached outside the Headmaster’s office by that point, bringing an end to the conversation. Severus would not lie and say he was not relieved.

“ _Sugar Quills_.” He murmured to the gargoyle, who hopped aside and allowed them to step onto the moving spiral staircase.

~~~~~~~>

Harry fiddled with the handful of spongy, slightly wriggly, gillyweed in his pocket as he walked down to the lake alongside Cedric and the other two Champions. Jax was still safely secured in his satchel, much to his relief. He had his gillyweed and the knife Sirius had sent him for Christmas in his pockets alongside his wand. Under his robes were close fitting swim clothes, spelled to help keep him warm against the frigid February temperature. The only parts of him not covered were his hands, feet (once he removed his boots) and head, to make room for the gills and webbing.

Harry was by no means looking forward to the Task, but he did not feel as sick to his stomach with nerves as he had before facing the dragon. He’d had time to prepare, to make a plan and gather appropriate equipment and knowledge.

And while he doubted he would ever be as elegant a swimmer as Blaise, he could now do more than tread water and sort of float.

Speaking of Blaise, he would have liked to see the other boy before being called down to the lake, but he must have already left for the stands with the rest of the school.

And that was fine, Harry guessed, the sentiment sounding false even in his own head.

A dock had been constructed at the edge of the lake, in good view of the stands that has also been newly erected and were teeming with excited students. Harry tried not to look at them, he was unsettled enough already without seeing how many eyes were now trained on him.

His father was down by the dock and Harry stepped up to him gratefully.

“You have everything?” The Potion Master asked.

Harry nodded, unshouldering his bag and holding it out as he had done before the First Task.

“Thank you, for not letting them take Jax.”

Severus accepted the satchel with a solemn nod, placing a firmly comforting hand on his shoulder.

“You will do well, there is nothing in that lake that can harm you if you keep your wits about you.”

Harry gave a shaky sort of nod, wishing he could just pass over the whole thing. Just float by the docks for the entire hour just to see what the judges would do. But he doubted that would count for the conditions set by the Goblet, and so into the drink Harry would go.

“It will be over before you know it. And I will be watching for anything untoward up here.”

“Thanks, Dad.” Harry whispered, too low for the others to hear, but it made him feel better to voice it.

“Of course, son.”

A whistle blew loudly overhead and Harry startled a bit before reluctantly stepping back over to join the other Champions. Cedric gave him a warm smile and Krum seemed to be doing some sort of warm up exercises that involve a lot of squatting and flexing of his muscles. Most of which were on display due to the fact that he was only clad in a (small) pair of swim trunks. The cold was definitely not a factor where Krum was concerned.

Fleur Delacour was tucking her long blonde hair under a swim cap and sneering a bit out over the gray water.

“You ready, Harry?” Cedric asked, shedding his robes and flushing from the sudden cold against his bare arms and legs. He at least had a shirt on still.

“I suppose.” Harry grumbled, kicking off his boots and dropping his own robe. His penknife he clipped to a ring at his waist and his wand he held tightly in his hand.

Bagman had started announcing them and their current standings, Harry ignored him. Still peeved that the man refused to use his correct name. Instead, he stuffed the gillyweed in his mouth and started chewing viciously. It was a bit like gnawing on slimy rat tails but thankfully didn’t really taste of much besides generic plantishness.

“The Champions will have one hour to find their prize! Points will be assigned on speed, method, and skill used in traversing the lake!” Bagman’s magically enhanced voice shouted over the crowd. “On the count of three then, contestants! One! Two!”

There was another ear-splitting whistle and they all dived into the lake with varying degrees of grace. Harry ignored the other three, swallowing down the last of the gillyweed and striking out towards the center of the lake as best he could while he waiting for the tingling in his limbs to resolve themselves into webbing. It did not take long and soon Harry found himself diving ungainly under the cold waves so he did not choke on air.

The gillyweed did help with the temperature along with his spelled clothes, and Harry could dismiss the chill from his mind after a moment. Breathing water took a minute to get used to, the sensation of it passing out the sides of his neck was weird and a bit unsettling but if it meant he did not drown then Harry would deal with it.

He could also see a lot better than he expected to be able to, another benefit of the plant he supposed. Millicent had impervioused his glasses beforehand which also helped. Under the surface of the Black Lake was like another world. One he had only glimpsed from the Slytherin dorms. Weeds rose from the bottom like lush, waving forests and fish both colorful and mundane flitted by as pushed down further toward the center of the lake, where he presumed the merpeople to reside.

There was no sign of the giant squid, thankfully, but Harry was keeping a sharp eye out in any case.

After a minute of awkward, lopsided swimming, Harry stuck his wand between his teeth to better utilise his newly webbed hands.

They were odd to look at, the skin stretched near transparent between his fingers and speckled with dark spots. They did make moving through the water much easier, however.

He wondered idly what the judges had grabbed from him to lever as motivation for the Task. Not Severus, obviously, and he doubted it would be anything inanimate. He had few things, and he cared for them all deeply, but that did not seem to fit the theme for the challenge. Stuff could be replaced. Well, perhaps not the Map or his Cloak, but Harry did not think he cared so deeply for those things to the exclusion of all else.

So, another person most likely.

Which, Harry berated himself as he put on a burst of speed through the water, he should have realised well before jumping in the lake. He had been so preoccupied with keeping Jax safe that he hadn’t even considered what would happen because of it.

Blaise.

They had taken Blaise, Harry was sure of it. A wash of guilt trickling through him as he thought about how upset he’d been that the other boy hadn’t been there to wish him good luck. If he had been paying the least amount of attention, Harry would have realised it was because Blaise had been _taken_.

He growled around his wand, anger and a furious desire to get back what was _his_ doing more to warm his blood than any plant or layer of enchanted clothing could ever hope to match.

How dare they? How _dare_ they?

Harry was going hex every last one of those judges until they were spitting frogs for a _week_. He was going to throw that blasted Goblet into the Black Lake and see how _it_ faired.

Harry swam furiously for untold minutes, thoughts of vengeance fueling his limbs until a struggling movement off to his right caught the corner of his eye and managed to snag his attention.

Fleur was thrashing about in the weeds, having swum too close to a nest of grindylows and been caught in their spidery grips. There was a bubble of air around her head, allowing her to breathe but that did not help much against the many hands grasping at her and dragging her down into the flowing weeds.

Harry swung around and sped in the girl’s direction taking his wand from between his teeth and casting incendios at the swarming grindylows. The words came out more as bubbles than anything, but jets of boiling hot water smashed into the little demons and they started scattering with high pitched cries. A few still clung to Fleur but the girl was finally able to wrench an arm free and start breaking the long fingers that grasped at her. It was a somewhat brutal sight, but Harry did not like to think what the things might have done to the girl had Harry not happened by.

He glanced around to make sure no more were lurking in the weeds, but he didn’t see any.

Fleur, free of excess creatures, glided over to Harry with a grateful smile slightly distorted by the bubble around her head.

“Thank you, ‘Arry. Zey ‘ad me for sure.” Her voice was muffled by the water but Harry understood well enough and nodded. She gestured at his wand and then at the weed, “Could you summon my wand? Ze grindylows, zey knocked it from my ‘and.”

Harry nodded again, pointing his own wand into the swaying plants, “ _Accio wand._ ”

More bubbles flew from his mouth, but Fleur’s wand also shot up from the lake bed. Harry caught it and handed it over, which earned him a surprisingly firm hug from the girl. Her hair had come loose from its cap and flowed around them like a living thing.

Harry disentangled himself as quickly as he could, feeling awkward and off-put by the sudden affection from the unsully aloof girl.

He threw a thumb over his shoulder in a weak excuse to escape and Fleur let him, swimming off in another direction and well above the weeds.

As Harry neared the center of the lake, he started to hear singing.

Knowing he must be near the merpeople now, he put on another burst of speed and followed the sound of the voices.

The dwellings he started coming across were roughly shaped and covered in moss, but unmistakable in their nature. The song was getting louder and louder and Harry began seeing actual merpeople as he sped along above the stone houses. They were gray skinned with wild green hair and yellow eyes. Many wore heavy strings of pebbles and shells but no other clothing. They all glared at him.

Keeping his wand at the ready, Harry made his way to the center of the village where he could see a cluster of people tied to poles in what he supposed equated to a mermish town square.

Blaise was indeed there, asleep by the look of it, with his head resting against Cho Chang ’s shoulder and his hair floating in a cloud of large curls that turned and swayed in the currents.

Absurdly. Harry’s first thought as he rushed forward and touched the other boy’s thankfully warm face, was that Blaise was going to be _so_ angry about his robes being soaked through with lake water.

Harry was just relieved that he looked unharmed, and if he pressed a kiss to the boy’s forehead before starting in on his ropes with the penknife, it was only because he doubted he’d ever be able to reach that high again when they were back on even footing. Cedric showed up a moment later and began cutting into Chang’s ropes with a much bigger knife than Harry had. The Hufflepuff also had a large bubble covering his head.

“Cheer’s, Harry.” He winked as the last of Chang’s ropes fell away and he started dragging her upwards.

That was fine, Harry wasn’t interested in winning. He just wanted this to be over.

On the other side of Blaise was a little girl with Fleur’s coloring and past her hung Hermione Granger, who’s hair was an even bigger floating mass than Blaise’s.

It was somewhat surprising to see Hermione there, although he supposed life as an international Quidditch star did not make for many close relationships. It was a little sad to think about, but Harry had his own problems at the moment without having to contemplate others too.

The last of Blaise’s ropes snapped away and the boy started floating freely in the water. Harry clipped his penknife back on and gathered Blaise close so he could start kicking them up towards the surface. It was a bit awkward, as Blaise was so much taller than him, but they made steady progress up and up and up.

It was getting lighter the closer they got to the surface and Harry wondered how long he’d been under the water for. It had to be getting close to the hour mark.

A large shape barrelled past them, startling Harry into nearly dropping Blaise. It was Krum, or what Harry assumed to be Krum. He had transfigured his head into that of a shark and Harry wondered if that was what he had been going for or if he’d meant to do the whole thing and botched it. Also, how would being a shark help in a freshwater lake? 

Another thing to chuck up to _because magic_ he supposed.

Whatever it was, Krum had Hermione in hand so he figured it was effective enough.

By the time Harry made it to the surface, he could feel the webbing start to retract and his gills fuse back into his neck. It had been a bit of a close call, but he still had to drag Blaise across the surface of the lake with his head under the water for a few minutes before he could start breathing air again.

There was a lot of cheering going on in the stands, which were far enough away that Harry almost wanted to give it up as a loss and just float there for the rest of the day. His arms felt leaden and his legs were sure to start cramping soon.

Thankfully, Blaise chose that moment to awaken from his enchanted sleep, look around them at the stretch of gray water and immediately start cursing a blue streak in Italian as he realised he was still in his robes.

Harry let out a surprised laugh, the adrenalin from the Task finally starting to crash around him, leaving him a bit loopy in the head.

Blaise huffed and splashed water at him, Harry just kept laughing. Eventually Blaise just dragged him in for a kiss, it was a bit jumpy on account of the giggles, but Harry did not mind so much.

He also let Blaise drag them back towards the shore, as _he_ hadn’t been traversing the Black Lake for the last eternity.

“And third back, right over the time limit is Mr. Harry Potter.” Ludo Bagman shouted over the cheering crowd, adding in a jovial tone, “Who might have made it back _under_ the limit if he hadn’t stopped for a snog in the middle of the lake!”

There was a round of laughter from the crowd but Harry couldn’t even find it in himself to blush, he was much too tired. His father had helped him up onto the docks and there he lay, panting and dripping and relieved that it was finally over.

Blaise dropped a towel on his face even as Severus cast several drying charms on the pair of them.

Fleur arrived a couple minutes later, loudly fussing over the little girl who was apparently her sister. The girl did not seem put out in the least, smiling brightly at everyone and laughing.

Fleur then spotted Harry where he lay sprawled on the dock and flew over in a fit overly emotional gratitude.

“‘Arry! Zank you so much! If it ‘adn’t been for you, I would ‘ave never been able to rescue Gabrielle!” She then flung herself upon him, much to his surprise and consternation.

“It was nothing,” he wheezed, sending a panicked look over the crazy girl’s shoulder at Blaise as she squeezed him tighter than was strictly necessary (or what he would have thought possible giver her petite frame), “it was just some grindylows.”

“Zey would ‘ave stopped me from rescuing my sister, you saved me from the beasts. You are the ‘ero here, ‘Arry.”

Blaise was finally able to pry the girl away, although Harry suspected it was only because she started raining kisses down on his cheeks. He gathered Harry up to his feet and threw a possessive arm around his shoulders as he smiled his sharpest smile at the girl.

“He is something special, my _tesoro_.”

Fleur blinked at Blaise, cocked her head to the side a bit, before pointing a delicate finger at the boy.

“You are part veela, are you not?” 

Blaise shrugged, seemingly unsurprised by the accusation. “My great-grandmother.”

She clapped delightedly, “‘Zat is vonderful!” She then began peppering _Blaise’s_ cheeks with kisses and Harry supposed it might just be a French thing...

Thankfully, Bagman halted any further overly emotional displays to announce the scores.

“After conferring with the merfolk, the standings are thus: Mr. Cedric Diggory arrived well within the time limit with Miss Cho well in hand and displaying a wonderfully cast Bubble-Head Charm, is awarded a full 50 points!” There was a loud cheer from the crowd.

“Mr. Krum also arrived back within the time limit, using an impressive show of partial human transfiguration, is awarded 40 points!” More cheering.

“Mr. Potter, with a clever application of gillyweed, although third to arrive and just slightly outside the limit, was first to reach the merfolk village and took the time to assist one of our other Champions with an unruly batch of grindylows, and so is also awarded 40 points!” Harry ducked his head at the applause that brought forth. He wasn’t trying to win, he didn’t care about the rankings. But it was still nice to know he had done well.

“And last but certainly not least, Miss Delacour, also using a Bubble-Head Charm and arriving back well outside the time limit but with her sister safely in hand, we award 35 points!” A final round of cheering and Harry gratefully allowed his father to lead the way away from the Black Lake and back up to the castle. He had had enough swimming to last him a lifetime by that point.

Blaise was warm where he pressed against Harry’s side and Harry hid a tired grin against his collar.


	19. Chapter 19

Harry's relief at finishing another Task without any significant casualties (aside from Blaise's robes, which the other boy had not let go quietly) lasted until breakfast the next morning before it was washed away quite thoroughly by a wave of intense, burning anger as he caught sight of the latest addition of the _Daily Prophet._

**LOVE BLOSSOMING FOR BOY-WHO-LIVED? OR ANOTHER TRAGEDY IN THE MAKING?**

_Dear readers, I, your illustrious scrivener and never resting seeker of truth, Rita Skeeter come to you with troubling news. It has come to my attention that our beloved hero of the wizarding world has found close companionship with a fellow student. Now, this in and of itself is not an alarming occurrence by any means, love is that all-important magic we all crave after all. No, the concerning part is the person our dear saviour has put his poor, fragile heart in the care of. Fellow Slytherin student: Blaise Zabini. Son of the infamously vivacious and mortiferous Zosima Zabini, whose late husband count is now reaching steadily closer to double digits._

_I, of course, would never insinuate anything untoward to have happened to Signora Zabini’s unfortunate, and wealthy, spouses. I merely express concern that our innocent and young hero Harry Potter, excuse me: Harry_ Snape _has trusted his precious heart into questionable hands. The last thing that poor boy needs is more tragedy given the sheer amount of upheaval his short life has already undertaken. From being removed from his childhood home under darkly ambiguous circumstances to the surprise adoption by one Severus Snape (accused Death Eater and current Head of Slytherin House). I have it on good authority that young Harry has confided a great many things in Mr. Zabini, placing trust perhaps too much into the hands of a boy with so byzantine a heritage. For, dear readers, it is not merely his mother that should be a cause of concern. And it may not even be the true desire of our Boy-Who-Lived to have grown so close with his fellow Slytherin. There may, in fact, be something far more insidious in the works._

 _I have learned through deft investigative skill and finesse in an effort to uncover the truth of the situation that Signora Zosima Zabini (and by extension her son) is decedent of_ veela _. Yes, you read that correctly. Those lascivious creatures, famously able to bring those they desire completely under their subservience with little more than a wink and whisper. Filling their heads with no other desire than to please the new masters of their hearts and minds. Has our beloved hero found himself the victim of this fate? Is he even now languishing in a haze of--_

Harry stopped reading, not because he wished to, but more so an inability to halt the paper from bursting into a flash of intense heat and flames that left ashes drifting down to the table to settle over the platter of sliced ham.

“Bad news?” Blaise smirked from across the table, sipping serenely at his dark coffee as ashes fell like dirty snow down between them.

Skeeter was going to pay for this. She was going to _suffer_.

How _dare_ she?

How--

Harry pushed roughly up from the table and began stomping out of the Great Hall with as long and determined a stride as his short legs would carry him. He barely paused enough to grab his satchel containing the sleeping Jax on his way out.

“Harry? Where are you going?”

Blaise’s voice followed him, now tinged with concern as the other boy followed him out past the tables of whispering and pointing students and up, up, up, towards the owlery. Harry did not answer him, could not form any verbal response past an angry exhale and the continued loud stomping of his booted feet against stone.

The rage inside him was like a living thing, reaching and clawing and seeking a target to sink vicious claws into. He would tear Skeeter to shreds. He would _eviscerate_ her.

“Harry, slow down. _Caro._ ”

But Harry could not, would not slow. Would not let this stand.

Coming after him was one thing, expected even. She had been doing so on and off for most of the year. Tiny little articles here and there, poking and prodding and generally making a nuisance of herself. But this? Taking another stab at his _father_? At _Blaise_? The people Harry held most dear? He would not allow the slander and insinuations against them stand a moment longer. He was through with waiting to find Skeeter in the act. He would draw the woman out and make her eat her words.

Preferably after Harry had transfigured them into jagged shards of glass.

The owlery was cold and drafty, the only sounds an eerie echoey hooting from the owls where they nested amongst the rafters and in little cubbies dug out of the walls and the rustle of feathers. Outside of the paneless windows, Harry could see a soft dusting of snow falling, glittering in the weak winter sunlight. It would have been a beautiful sight had Harry not been so currently engulfed in utter rage.

Snatching parchment and quill from his bag, he began drafting a letter so forcefully that halfway through the second line he had to repair the parchment after having stabbed clean through it and torn an inch long hole down the page.

“Harry. Talk to me, what was in the paper?” Blaise’s voice was deep with concern and he was standing close enough to stave off the chill of the owlery if Harry were not already burning up inside from emotion.

“Skeeter.” He managed to grind out, nearly tearing a new hole in his parchment.

“Ah.” Blaise nodded slowly, taking a half-step closer. “More _merda_ about Snape?”

“In part,” Harry fairly growled, scrawling his signature at the bottom of the parchment and starting a second letter, “mostly it was about you.”

“Really, now?” Blaise drawled, “Admiring my devilish good looks and charming personality, no doubt.”

Harry let out a displeased huff of air, in no mood for levity.

He finished up the second missive in heavy silence before sending them off with a pair of stout school barn owls. As he watched the birds wing away through the falling snow Harry felt as if his overflowing anger was settling down. Not leaving, no, but solidifying. Condensing into a form that allowed him to see past it. To uncloud his eyes enough to really notice how distressed Blaise looked right then, drawn into himself and hunched up in his fine robes as he stood close enough to almost be touching Harry, if Harry hadn’t sprouted metaphorical bristling spines.

Guilt washed over the hardened anger, leaving Harry’s insides a queasy, jumbled mess.

“I’m sorry. This is my fault.” He should have known something like this would happen.

That his life would never be a private one. That anyone unfortunate enough to be associated with him would be dragged along behind him, scrutinized and prodded at as if it was anyone else’s business what they were getting up to. Or with whom. Or why.

“Whatever that Skeeter cow wrote, none of it is on you. That is all her doing.”

“You should not have to deal with it. You deserve better than that.” Harry protested and Blaise finally closed the distance between them fully and took Harry’s shaking hands between his own.

“ _Tesoro_ , nothing she can say or print will change the way I feel about you. Sure, it might get a little irritating, but that is a price I am more than willing to pay.”

“You don’t know what she even said, what she insinuated.”

“I can hazard a guess.” Blaise had that slanted, dry smirk as he spoke. “Something about corrupting the hero of the wizarding world, no doubt. Probably dragging my mother into it as well and all that implies.”

“Not only that, but about you being part veela. She just _printed_ it, without regard to how it will affect your life. The way people look at you, treat you.”

The anger was bubbling up again, but Blaise used his grip on Harry’s hands to pull him closer still. To wrap Harry in an embrace that somehow managed to soothe away the rising emotion before it erupted once more.

“The people that let this influence their opinions of me unduly are not worth the trouble of caring about, _caro_. It doesn’t bother you,” Harry shook his head mutely against Blaise’s shoulder, “then there is no reason to fret.”

They were quiet a moment as Harry pulled himself together.

“I’m still going to make her pay.” He promised eventually, pulling away far enough to be able to look up into Blaise’s brown eyes.

“Well, _obviously_.” The other boy smirked, bending down to press a soft kiss against Harry’s frowning mouth. “Now, let’s get out of this filthy tower before either of us catch mange.”

Harry let Blaise lead the way back down the stairs, his mind already away with the letters he had sent. Whirling along to the weekend and the Hogsmeade trip that had now taken a turn for the vicious in Harry’s head.

~~~~~~~>

 

The Three Broomsticks was as noisy and crowded as it always seemed to be, but Harry and Blaise had managed to acquire a table in the back corner with a judicious application of sharp elbows and the odd Stinging Hex. The week leading up to that point had not been a pleasant one, but Blaise had been correct in that the majority of their friends and acquaintances acted no different towards him after the article.

There were questions, sure, personal and far too invasive for Harry’s liking a lot of the time. But Blaise was nothing if not silver-tongued and well versed in slanting conversations to his whims, oftentimes with an accompanying smirk. He fielded all the attention far better than Harry had ever been able to manage himself. He supposed that Blaise might have been used to it to a certain degree, given his mother and her tendency to parade Blaise around when the fancy took her.

As for the students that did not like the idea of Blaise having been _hiding_ such a secret, well, they earned a far more wicked and pointed response. Oftentimes leaving with a dazed, confused look about them as they tried to figure out just how badly they had just been insulted.

Harry would have been up in arms about much of it if it did not seem as if Blaise were enjoying messing with their more idiotic classmates so thoroughly.

Surprisingly, or perhaps not so much so, Severus had given out a few tongue lashings of his own on the matter. And as much as Harry appreciate the ones he’d witnessed from Blaise, they still struggled to hold a candle to the decades of experience that Harry’s father held in the art of creative degradation.

Professor Flitwick also had forgone an entire Charms lesson to instead lecture them pointedly on the acceptance of all students that chose to attend Hogwarts, no matter their background. Harry had the feeling it was a bit of a sore subject with the diminutive professor, whom Harry had long suspected to have goblin blood in his own family tree.

He was glad when the weekend finally arrived however and his plans could start to move forward.

His first letter had been answered that same afternoon after he’d sent it. Miss Reid was more than happy to meet him down in the village to discuss the matter.

The second letter had not been responded to until a full two days had passed.

Skeeter had filled it with a lot of flowery words, empty flattery, and shallow attempts at invasive questions masked by faux concern. Ultimately, however, she did agree to a meeting. Perhaps under the misapprehension that Harry wish to give her an exclusive interview.

That he had supplied her with that idea was beside the point.

Blaise was with him at The Three Broomsticks, but their other friends were off doing different things. Harry had insisted, he did not think that Skeeter would be too keen on a large crowd of surly Slytherins (with the odd hanger-on from other Houses) glaring her down. Not that Harry was interested in sparing the woman’s feelings in the least. No, but he did not need her seeing them and deciding to abandon the entire affair before it even got started.

So it was him and Blaise, alone at their hardwon table until Miss Reid arrived, which should have been at any moment. Blaise had bought them both butterbeers, but Harry was too agitated to drink his, content to let the pint sweat a ring into the well worn table as he watched the crowd around them with narrowed eyes.

Jax wormed his way out of Harry’s collar to flick his forked tongue at Harry’s abandoned drink, sneezing lightly at the carbonation but going in for a second taste all the same. Harry let him, stoking an absent finger along the serpent’s flank as Jax abandoned Harry’s robes completely to coil possessively around the pint glass.

“Should I grab another then?” Blaise asked with a quirked brown, sipping at his own butterbeer.

Harry waved a dismissive hand, “Don’t bother, it’s fine. Look, there’s Ivy.”

She was tall enough to see over the teeming crowd of students, resplendent in her sharp business robes and carefully styled pixie cut. She smiled warmly at Harry when she finally managed to reach their small sanctuary.

“Hello, Harry, dear. So lovely to see you.” She bent down to press the ghost of a kiss to either side of his face and Harry managed to contain most of his flush at the unexpected affection. “And this must be Mr. Zabini, my you are a handsome one, aren’t you.” 

She turned her sharp smile on Blaise, who took the compliment with a smug sort of air that had Harry rolling his eyes a bit.

“A pleasure, Miss Reid. Harry has nothing but the very best to say of you.”

Ivy laughed, the tinkle of it somewhat like the clear ringing of bells, a nice, genuine sound.

“Such a sweet one, our Harry.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” Blaise winked at him, taking another sip of his drink as Harry huffed and folded his arms pointedly and pretended like he wasn’t secretly pleased and warm inside.

Ivy pulled up a chair and sat at the table so that they were all facing out towards the crowd, to better keep an eye peeled for Skeeter’s arrival. Blaise was between the pair of them, if a bit further into Harry’s space than Ivy’s. Jax was still out on the table, having made himself quite comfortable with his prize, even if he still gave off the off sneeze here and there.

“So, where is that lovely father of yours, Harry? I would think he would want to be involved in this.” The inquiry was not accusatory, merely curious as Ivy tapped a well varnished nail against the table.

“Oh, er, I haven't actually told him what I was doing.” It hadn’t been deliberate on Harry’s part, he’d only been so focused that it had completely slipped his mind to talk to Severus about it. “I’ll speak to him later, there’s no time to do it now.”

“Hmm.” Ivy nodded as Madam Rosmerta came up to them and placed a slightly smoking martini glass in front of her, “Thank you, Rosmerta. This looks wonderful.”

“Aye, you let me know when you three want a top off,” the barmatron did a double take at the sight of Jax enjoying his butterbeer, but seemed to brush the oddity off with the experience of seeing far stranger things far more often in her pub, “just give me a holler and I’ll be right over, yeah? Anything else I get you while I’m here?”

“ _Does she have any eggs?_ ” Jax asked, bobbing a little lopsidedly, Harry figured a bit of food would probably not go amiss.

“Do you have any raw eggs? Or fried potatoes?” He asked, eyeing his snake as he went in for more butterbeer.

“I might do, at that. Be back in a tick, dearies.”

As it turned out, Madam Rosmerta did have eggs and Harry was able to coax his usurped drink away from the serpent with the prize. It would not do to have Jax completely sloshed, he might burn the pub down by hiccuping the wrong way and then Harry really would be in big trouble.

When they were alone again, Ivy cast a privacy spell and Harry was able to give her the details of what had been happening and why he’d owled her to come down. Well, most of them anyway. He kept Skeeter’s Animagus secret to himself, if only to give Ivy the illusion of plausible deniability on that front. 

“There is a very strong case for you on the grounds of libel and invasion of privacy towards both of you and Professor Snape. I am sure we can manage to put a dampener on Skeeter’s wagging quill. Frankly, I’m surprised it took you this long to come to me.” She leveled Harry with a slightly disapproving stare over the wide brim of her still smoking martini.

“I didn’t want even more attention, I’ve had enough this year to last a lifetime.” Harry grumbled, finally taking a drink of his own just to have something to do.

Jax suddenly rose up, his tongue flicking the air, “ _That bitch is here, I can smell her._ ”

The susurrations were a bit slurred and Jax’s purple eyes a little glossy, but Harry had never known his nose to lie. He shot a look at Blaise, who thankfully got the gist and smoothly scanned the room with the casually disinterested demeanor he had perfected over the years. Harry did his best to emulate it while Jax just swung his head around wildly like the least subtle snake in existence.

“ _There, that pillar._ ” Blaise murmured in Italian, flicking his eyes briefly in the direction of one of the many thick pillars spaced around the room.

At first, Harry couldn’t see what the other boy meant, but then a flicker on torchlight reflected off the shiny carapace of large beetle with very unusual markings.

“ _It figures she would be a bug,_ ” Harry snorted, taking a deeper drink from his butterbeer as he discretely watched the beetle scuttle up and around the pillar and out of sight. “ _No wonder we couldn’t find her that night._ ”

Blaise hummed and Ivy raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow at them, “Care to clue me in there, boys?”

Harry nodded at the crowd, “Looks like our guest of honor is finally here.”

Unsurprisingly, Skeeter had appeared only moments after the beetle had vanished. She had probably been trying to eavesdrop before realising there was a privacy charm in place.

She was dressed in gaudy green robes with maroon furred cuffs and collar, her crocodile skin handbag held firm in one talon-like hand. When she got close enough to the table to greet them, her smile was sharp and as false as anything Harry had seen on Gilderoy Lockhart.

“Harry Potter, I was so very pleased to receive your owl.” She pulled up a chair and scooted it much too close to him, clicking open her crocodile skin bag and pulling out a lengthy bit of parchment and an acid green quill that had a wickedly sharp looking point. She had evidently decided to ignore the presence of the other people at the table.

“Harry. Snape.” He corrected with a sharp, clipped tone.

“Of course, dear, of course. How silly of me, old habits you know?” She stuck the end of her quill in her mouth and sucked on it with a frankly disturbing amount of enjoyment.

When she placed it upon the parchment a moment later it stood of its own volition, vibrating eagerly.

“Now, why don't we talk about that, hmm? My readers would just _love_ to know the details of just how all that came about.”

The acid green quill had started to scratch something out on the parchment but Harry paid it no mind, too busy narrowing his eyes at Skeeter.

“I am not here to talk about my father. And even if I were willing to do so, it would never be to _you_.”

Skeeter narrowed her own eyes as the quill continued to dance along the parchment between them.

“Touchy subject, I understand. Is this to be about my latest article then?” She cut a look at Blaise, who was calmly lounging in his chair and looking the epitome of indifferent. Harry envied his ability to put up such a convincing front. “An expose on your youthful struggle to find love in a cold, cruel, world?”

“No.”

Skeeter huffed, “Well, I can’t very well interview you if you are unwilling to talk about anything.”

Harry thought that was not strictly true, as a glance down at the parchment showed he had apparently said quite a few things in a very dramatic way.

“We are not here for an interview.” Harry informed her, unsurprised when she dropped her attempt at a smile instantly.

“Then why did you owl me, Mr. _Snape_ , if not for an interview.”

“To inform you that you are being leveled with a lengthy list of grievances against my client, not the least of which are libel and harassment.” Ivy cut in smoothly, pulling parchment from her own, much more tasteful, briefcase.

Jax accented the statement by darting forward and snatching the acid green quill right out of the air, snapping it with a rather loud crunch. Harry was proud the snake had managed such a coordinated maneuver, given his current, somewhat wobbly state.

Skeeter let out a laugh, it was nowhere near as nice a sound as Ivy’s had been earlier.

“That is _ludocrise_ , I have never printed an untrue word in my life.”

“Then you should have no trouble proving so. In the meantime, until this issue is resolved, you are to stay well away from my clients. That is to say: Mr. Harry Snape, Professor Severus Snape, and Mr. Blaise Zabini. I would also refrain from printing any more articles concerning them, lest you dig your hole deeper than it already is.”

“My readers have a right to know--”

“No.” Ivy cut Skeeter off, leveling the woman with so disdainful a glare that Harry was surprised Skeeter did not shrink back from the sheer force of it. “No, they do not.”

A slip of parchment was set in front of Skeeter, filled with Ivy’s neat handwriting, even as she snatched up the nonsense that Skeeter’s quill had been scratching out.

“You can’t take that!”

“I most assuredly can.” Ivy tucked the parchment away in her briefcase as Skeeter seemed to only grow more irritated.

Good.

“This isn’t over.”

“It certainly is not,” Ivy agreed, “I look forward to seeing you in court.”

Skeeter did not sputter, nor yell, or start throwing hexes. No, she simply glared, her mouth twisting into an aggressive scowl as she and Ivy stared each other down over the scuffed and dented tabletop. It was clear that neither woman was willing to back down in the slightest and the air fairly crackled with pent up energy.

“Miss Reid?” Harry spoke before things escalated too far, “Could I have a moment with her?”

“Are you certain, Harry?” Ivy asked without taking her narrowed gaze away from the reporter.

“Just a minute, please.”

“Of course. I’ll just pop off to the bar for a refill and be back to continue our _discussion_.”

After Ivy had left, Harry held up a forestalling hand when it looked as if Skeeter were about to start in again with the questions.

“I just wanted to make something perfectly clear to you, Skeeter.” He murmured, almost too low to be heard over the noise of the pub. “I do not tolerate any unkind word against those I care about. You damned yourself the moment you said what you did about my father.”

“You can not stop the press, Mr. Snape.” Skeeter sneered and Harry pushed down the well of anger that attempted to rush up out of him at that, “The truth will out, eventually. The only thing you can attempt to control is the _angle_ of that truth, and this?” She lifted the parchment between them, her talon-like nails nearly gouging holes through it. “This is not the best way to go about doing that.”

“Perhaps not.” Harry agreed, leaning forward and feeling a rush of vindictive pleasure at his next word. “Would you rather I go with my original plan?”

“And what exactly would that be?”

“Blackmail, of course.”

Skeeter laughed again, “What could you possibly hope to leverage against me, boy?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Harry demurred, smirking, “how about the fact that you are an unregistered Animagus. I am sure the ministry would be very interested to hear all about how so prominent a member of the press is able to get her information. What do you think, Blaise?”

“I think you may be right, _caro_.” Blaise agreed, a matching smirk gracing his features. “It may just be our duty to say something.”

Skeeter actually paled, her eyes going wide for a split second behind her rhinestone glasses before she went stone-faced.

“I've no idea what you mean. And even if I did, how would you _prove_ it.”

Harry reached over and gave Jax a stroke along his neck, the serpent glaring with jewel-bright eyes at Skeeter.

“My friend here, he can smell you. Even when you're human. Animagi give off a very distinctive scent.”

Skeeter snorted, “And who is going to believe the word of a _snake_?”

Jax hissed, faking a jab at the woman that made her flinch hard enough to knock against the underside of the table.

“His ability is well documented with the Ministry, as I am sure you are aware of the details of my godfather’s case. It would be enough to begin an investigation at the very least.”

Skeeter clutched at her handbag with white knuckles, but managed to keep a hint of impassivity across her face; even if a sneer was now leaking through.

“Well played, Mr. Snape. I suppose you wish me to cease writing altogether, to abandon my life's work? To forever abdicate from the pursuit of knowledge and truth?”

Harry rolled his eyes at the melodramatic response, as if Skeeter cared one whit about _truth_.

“If you still have your job at the _Prophet_ after Miss Reid finishes with you, feel free to write all the dragon shit you desire.” Harry lowered his voice again, to a fair approximation of his father's most deadly tone. “But if you ever print an unkind word, insinuate anything untoward, or even spare a passing glance at a mildly unfavorable turn of phrase towards Severus Snape, Blaise Zabini, or anyone I might remotely call close: I may very well bypass the Animagus report forms altogether and go straight to grinding up your carapace for my next cauldron of Pepper-Up. I am sure it would add quite a satisfying zing to the recipe.”

“Don't forget yourself in that list, dearheart.” Blaise added, laying a hand over Harry's own on the table.

“Ah, yes, thank you, Blaise.” Harry nodded, meshing their fingers together in gratitude, “Have I made myself perfectly clear, Miss Skeeter?”

“Exactingly so, Mr. Snape.” She said delicately, tapping her long fingernails in an agitated rhythm against the tabletop. “I do see now why you were sorted into Slytherin House.”

It was not said as a slight, in fact, Skeeter sounded almost admiring under her varnish of spitefulness at being caught out.

“Was that all? Or do you have other demands? I am a rather busy woman, you know.”

“I'm sure you are,” Harry drawled, “one more thing, yes. I am sure it will be required of you by the end of your proceedings with Miss Reid, but I expect the _Prophet_ to print a lengthy and genuine apology for every affront you’ve cultivated over this past year against those I listed earlier. I expect it to be front page news, not tucked away in the back with the ads for used cauldrons and wonky brooms.”

“I never go back on my printed word, you can't expect--”

“I do expect. And you _will_ do this.”

“ _I could just melt her lying face off right here._ ” Jax suggested, not together an unreasonable proposition a voice whispered darkly in the back of Harry's head.

“ _Not this time, Jax._ ”

Skeeter eyed the serpent warily, wisely deciding not to inquire about the sideline. Turning her gaze back to meet Harry's unblinking stare.

“My reputation would plummet.”

“What is more important to you? Your reputation or your life?”

“My reputation _is_ my life, boy.”

“Then it is more pitiful than I first imagined, and worth far less. A feat I had not anticipated possible.”

Surprisingly that earned a laugh out of Skeeter.

“Oh, you are a sharp one. I like that. Alright, Mr. Snape, I concede to your terms.”

As if she had any other choice.

“Good. Then if you will excuse us, I do believe you have quite a few things to discuss with Miss Reid.”

He nodded to Ivy who had been hanging back at a polite distance and sipping her new glass. She gracefully manoeuvred around a rambunctious gaggle of Hufflepuff third years and retook her seat.

Skeeter glowered at the other woman, “Surely we don't need to go through all that fuss, we've come to an amicable accord, have we not?”

Harry pushed back from the table, shaking his head in a sharp negative as he glared down his nose at her.

“You should count yourself lucky that I do not let my familiar go along with _his_ first instinct and melt your face off.” Jax gave a smug little bob in Skeeter's direction before climbing his way up to Harry's shoulders. “I will see retribution for your slight against my family. Perhaps you should take the opportunity to reevaluate your journalistic methods.”

He gave Ivy a parting nod and she wriggled her fingers at him. Blaise took Harry by the elbow and led the way from the crowded pub.

Once outside, he bent low enough to press a firm kiss against Harry's temple.

“That was marvelously done, _caro_.”

Harry shrugged, feeling rather drained from the experience. He would have never imagined he'd have the nerve to speak to an adult in such a manner, let alone make demands of them.

Then again, Rita Skeeter was hardly an exemplary model of mature behavior.

He supposed the all-consuming, burning rage had helped. He could not stand idly but and let anyone disparage the people he cared about. It was just inexcusable.

Time would tell if Skeeter believed his very real threats. She would be very unwise to discount his word, but that tiny, vengeful voice in the very back of his head almost hoped that she might.

He probably would not grind the woman into potion ingredients, but Azkaban was more than equitable a punishment.

Blaise took them on a meandering stroll through the village, and by the time they stopped in a smaller, less crowded eatery for lunch, he was feeling much more grounded.

There was only one more Task to complete. Skeeter was well on her way to being dealt with. Harry was hesitant to begin hoping for an end to the hardships in his life, but he could not deny that things felt marginally lighter than they had when he had woken that morning.


	20. Chapter 20

Severus Snape mused darkly in the dim light of his ingredients storage closet, contemplating the worrying significance of his continued dwindling stock. He had narrowed the possibilities down to a few potions, some more concerning than others. Polyjuice in particular, given the implications that they very well may have been harboring a serious threat inside the castle and been none the wiser.

When the thought had occurred to him first, Severus had commandeered use of his son's Map so ascertain if there were indeed any suspicious persons lurking about Hogwarts. Alastor Moody being top of that list, as he was the most conspicuous presence that year.

Unfortunately, that particular paranoid bastard was there in clear ink upon the Map, in his office.

In fact, the only oddity Severus did spy was Bartemius Crouch strolling along an upper corridor. Severus supposed the man could be at the school to discuss Tournament business, but then again he had been completely absent from the Second Task; Percival Weasley taking his spot on the judges' panel.

Rumor had it the man was unwell. Missing work in great swaths of time and becoming increasingly uncommunicative. It was suspicious behavior to say the least, but if Severus knew a singular thing about Bartemius Crouch, it was that he was uncompromising in the extreme when it came to what he viewed to be against the _Light_. He had sent his only son to Azkaban without hesitation, unless one counted the grace of appointing the boy a trial as such, even as farcical as the thing may have been. 

Perhaps it was latent guilt affecting Crouch, for damming his own blood to that hellhole. The boy had died there, Severus knew, had barely lasted a year. It was not so surprising, he remembered Crouch Jr. Angry, cruel, and spiteful, with a viciously clever twist to his mind that appealed greatly to the Dark Lord. Arrogant. And Severus knew from arrogance.

But for all of that, Crouch the younger was still barely more than a child himself when his father had disowned him in front of a courtroom full of righteous wizards and witches out for blood.

Such actions had a way of coming back to bite you, whether deservedly or not.

Still, such suppositions did nothing to help Severus unravel the mystery of his missing stores. If not Polyjuice, than perhaps one of a multitude of slow acting poisons. A drop into a drink over a span of weeks or months to slowly weaken an adversary. Or make a death appear to be of natural causes as symptoms began to manifest slowly, leading to an unsavory, lengthy, and often painful end.

And yet, no detection spells he had cast on his food or that of his fellow teachers had revealed any such tampering. Nor anything that might make its way to Harry’s plate.

It was odd. Severus could simply _not_ unravel the plot set before him. Obvious in its presence and threat, but obfuscated beyond his ken. Which, Severus supposed, was the _most_ irritating part of the entire affair.

He needed to figure out what exactly was happening here, _before_ the Third Task. A horrible, looming shadow of dread had been steadily building as each hurdle of this ridiculous Tournament came and went with no subtle or overt sign of sabotage nor further machinations. Which would lead one to assume things would come to a head at the last obstacle.

Whatever goal was in mind for the person or persons unknown, Severus intended to put a halt to it. Sooner rather than later. Before anything irreversible happened.

Severus resisted the urge to lay a hand over his left arm, where phantom pricklings were making the hairs on the back of his neck rise.

The Mark was darkening. As much as he did not wish to agree with Karkaroff on any subject, the man was correct on that front.

That fact of which only served to provide further motivation to unravel whatever plot had ensnared his son. If it had anything to do with the Dark Lord, and such a thing seemed more and more likely by the day, then Severus would not be caught unawares.

He strengthened the wards around his storeroom so that whatever sneak thief was behind the disappearances would have to work far harder for their prize and perhaps give Severus more time to catch them in the act. He had been unsuccessful so far that year whenever his wards had been tripped. Always at a time when he was too far away to do much of anything aside from inventory what had gone missing by the time he did arrive. It showed either a tremendous amount of luck, or more likely, meticulous planning on the perpetrator’s part.

Whatever the case, there was nothing to be done about it until they attempted another dip into his stores.

A darkness was on the horizon. Anyone could plainly see if they only looked for the signs.

It carried with it a heavy sheen of inevitability. One cloying with dread and foreboding of things to come.

Severus did not want another war. He _certainly_ did not want one in which his son would be embroiled, prophecies be damned.

Some part of himself, the part still mired in thorny guilt and self-loathing, whispered that it was only what he deserved. That Severus should never have expected any sort of happiness or peace to _last_.

It seemed somehow especially cruel that he had obtained a taste of contentment, of love, only for it to be immediately threatened. To be ripped away and trampled under the boot of a madman seeking power above all else.

Severus would simply not allow it.

So, wards and measures and _constant vigilance_. 

If, Merlin forbid, what he feared did come to pass, Severus would be ready. He would not allow his son to be taken from him. To be made into a solider or sacrificed or twisted into something that he was never meant to be. Albus could put as much faith into the mad whispers of as many seers as he wished, Severus would do what was best for his _son_.

A prophecy was only as powerful as the ones believing it to be. And Severus simply refused to accept that Harry was the only thing able to take down his old master. The idea was ludicrous in the extreme and Severus would not have it.

Giving the storeroom one last narrow-eyed look, Severus swept away. He could use a strong cup of very black tea, perhaps doctored with a couple drops of Headache Cure as a pounding had started up in his temple.

He steadfastly ignored the way his left arm continued to prickle.

~~~~~~~>

Harry was watching a wizard chess match between Blaise and Ron Weasley in the Great Hall when Ludo Bagman approached him with Cedric Diggory in tow.

Blaise had been equal parts indignant and delighted to learn that Ron was something of a genius when it came to the game. In their first match, Blaise had actually _lost_. That had not so much upset the other boy as made him berate the Gryffindor for hiding away this talent.

“I’ve been forced to play with _Draco_.” Blaise sighed, aggrieved as he leveled Ron with an unimpressed look. “He is so predictable and whines terribly when he loses. Which is always. And yet, here _you’ve_ been this entire time.”

Ron shrugged, flushing brightly across the bridge of his nose and the tip of his ears where they poked out of his equally blazing hair. He shrugged, fiddling with an errant pawn as the tiny black figure struggled against the manhandling.

“If it makes you feel any better, mate, _nobody_ will play me anymore. Not even Hermione.”

“Really? I’d think that girl would relish the chance to flout her intelligence.” Blaise drawled not unkindly as he shepherded the pieces back into their proper places.

“She thinks it’s brutish, the way they all go at each other.” Ron snorted, then leaned in and stage whispered, “I think she’s just sore she kept losing.”

The pair of them snickered and Harry settled in with a potions book he had borrowed from his father’s quarters, as it looked like they would be there for a while yet. It was during the fifth game (the previous matches split evenly between the two boys) when Bagman showed up.

“Ah! And here is our other esteemed Hogwarts Champion.” The man grinned, looking as if he would very much like to pat Harry roughly on the shoulder, though thankfully refrained at the look Harry shot his raised hand. “If you can spare a moment, there is some Tournament business that needs discussing.”

Harry would really rather not, but he doubted the boisterous Bagman would deem that an acceptable answer to his non-question. So he simply sighed, closed his book, and rose from the table. When Blaise made to follow, however, Bagman waved him back down.

“Ah, ah, lad, Champions only I’m afraid. Worry not, I’ll have your sweetheart back in two shakes of a snallygaster’s tail.” Bagman laughed loudly, apparently oblivious of the unimpressed looks being pointed his way.

Blaise did press a soft kiss to his cheek before Harry was made to follow Cedric and Bagman out of the Great Hall, which was fortifying enough that he was able to refrain from casting a Tripping Jinx at the man as he merrily trotted along in front of him.

“I saw that article in the _Prophet_ , the apology. You must have pulled some serious strings to get Rita Skeeter to agree to that.” Cedric said, his tone impressed. “I can’t stand that woman. She did a write up on dad once, when there was a bit of an issue with an escaped herd of graphorn that took quite a bit of cleaning up to keep under wraps from the muggles. Since dad is head of the DRCMC, she shunted all the blame onto him. Of course focusing on all the negative aspects and _not_ the brilliant way he and his team handled everything. It could have been way worse than it was.”

“Skeeter likes her melodramatics,” Harry rolled his eyes a bit, “I’ve no doubt she could find the dark spin on even the happiest of events.”

“Like your adoption?” Cedric suggested quietly, nearly making Harry stumble with the unexpectedness of it. “I think it’s great that you’ve found some new family,” the Hufflepuff continued, his handsome face smiling softly down at Harry in a way that should have been condescending but somehow wasn’t, “although I might have picked someone other than _Professor Snape_ , if it had been me.”

Harry let out a strangled sort of laugh, “He’s not so bad, once you get past all the glaring and perhaps invest in a thesaurus.”

Cedric’s laugh was much nicer than Harry’s had been, but he was thankful when the subject was dropped as they approached the powder blue Beauxbaton carriage. Bagman knocked sharply on the door and soon Fleur had joined them in an elegant sweep of matching blue robes and flicking blonde hair.

“‘Arry, ‘ow lovely to see you.” She ghosted a kiss down on each of his cheeks, her smile bright and happy. “And you as well, Cedric.”

The other boy was given the same treatment, although Bagman was pointedly left out.

“It is exciting, no? Only one more Task.”

Harry nodded, although he felt more queasy at the thought of it than anything. It had been far too quiet that year since his name had come bursting out of the Goblet. He had expected something to happen much sooner. But as the weeks and months had passed and nothing untoward had presented itself, the anxiety had simply continued to build. Harry feared it might consume him completely before long. He was increasingly grateful for his Occlumency when thought of what might be lurking in wait for him to drop his guard became so distracting that he could hardly think of anything else.

Blaise, thankfully, was also there. A well of calm in the storm that Harry felt adrift in. His father as well, and his friends. And Jax, of course. It was enough to keep most of the ill thoughts at bay. Harry shuddered to think what he would have done without the support. Shaken apart at the seams, most likely.

Their next stop was at the ship to collect Viktor Krum, who grunted at them and slouched in the back of the group next to Harry as they turned towards the Quidditch pitch.

Harry wondered if maybe the last task would be about flying of some sort, although that gave certain members of the Tournament a clear advantage. So probably not. Maybe something to do with the Forbidden Forest then, as the edge of it was not far past the pitch.

But no, Bagman led them directly through to the large expanse of lawn that made up the ground level of the playing field.

Both Cedric and Krum made displeased sounds when they saw what had become of the once smooth and even lawn. It was covered in ankle-high shrubbery, dense and twisting.

“The pitch!” Cedric cried, a hand over his mouth as he stared in horror over the ruined lawn, “What have you done to our pitch? It’s _mangled_.”

“It’s a maze.” Harry said before Bagman could answer, swiftly scanning the minute hedges as they twisted and turned at angles far too sharp and calculated to be anything other than deliberate.

“Right you are, Harry. Good eye.” Bagman tapped the side of his nose, winking at them all. “A maze indeed. And no ordinary one at that! This will have all manner of tricks and obstacles for you to overcome, not to mention the occasional creature. So you must keep your wits about you and not lose nerve for at the very center of our vast maze will be the Triwizard Cup! As the scores stand now, whoever reaches it first will be crowned winner. So I suggest you all study up and prepare yourselves because this is sure to be very difficult.”

“Can you be more specific?” Harry asked, not really surprised when the man just chuckled and shook his head.

“Now, now, Mr. Potter. I can't go giving away all my secrets, where would be the fun in that?”

Harry scowled, he was not there for _fun_. In point of fact, he did not want to be there at all. And he had had well past enough of Bagman insulting him by refusing to use his chosen name.

“Now, I'll give you lot a few moments to look over our hedgy masterpiece so don't waste it. You'll not be allowed back here until the start of the Third Task.”

Harry turned his glare back to the shrubs, taking careful note of their position and pattern as he slowly circled the perimeter of the maze. He could use his mind's library later to bring forth the images and transplant it to parchment for further study.

Although, given the inherent magicality of the maze and the Tournament itself, he doubted the plants would be kind enough to remain in their original positions completely.

He would not be able to rely fully on it, but it was better than nothing. Harry was not concerned about the maze itself, so much as what was to be placed _inside_ it. He would need to practice his defensive and offensive magic extensively over the coming weeks. And perhaps see if he could find out any hint of the hazards to come.

“Are we allowed to bring anything into the maze with us?” Cedric asked, staring intently down at the flora that had overtaken his pitch.

Harry wanted to glower at the other boy as Bagman shook his head in the negative, “Wands only, I'm afraid.”

He would have rather the Hufflepuff not said anything, giving them all more room to prepare. Now Bagman had explicitly stated it as a rule and there would be no sneaking in anything. His Cloak would have been an invaluable asset, Harry was sure.

Maybe Severus would be able to teach him the Disillusionment Charm he'd used to spy out the dragons all those months ago.

“Alright, alright, Champions. That's enough looksies, I think. Back up to the castle with you!” Bagman began herding them away from the pitch. But Harry halted their progress once they'd cleared the entrance to the stands.

“May I have a word with you, Mr. Bagman?”

The man looked faintly startled at Harry's grave tone, but waved the other three along all the same.

“Now, Harry. I know you were a bit pressganged into this, but I'm afraid I can’t give you any additional information on the Task.” The man said earnestly, looking as if he might very well try and lay a comforting hand on Harry's shoulder.

“It not about that.” Harry hastily corrected, taking a half-step back from him.

“Oh?” Bagman lifted his brows, “Well, my apologies. What is it you needed?”

“I would _appreciate_ it, Mr. Bagman, if you would cease using my birth name. I am a Snape. I wish to be addressed as such.” Harry put effort into keeping his voice level and firm, meeting the man's eyes so that he would know just how absolute Harry was on this point.

“Oh, dear. Has that really been such a bother?” Bagman chuckled, as if Harry were joking, “It just sounds much more impressive, doesn't it: _Harry Potter, Hogwarts Champion_. Much more exciting than Harry _Snape_ , wouldn't you say?”

“I would not.” Harry dissented sharply. “It is my name and I want you to start using it properly or I will refuse to do this idiotic maze and damn the consequences.”

“Now, now, don't be hasty, lad.” Bagman flapped his hands, “I'm sure we can-- sweet Merlin, _Barty_?!”

Harry whipped around to see what Bagman was gaping at over his shoulder, Jax made a displeased sound as the banged against Harry's boney hip with the motion. Staggering out of the edge of the forest was a very ragged looking man. His robes, once obviously well made and expensive, were now torn in places and covered with dirt, leaves, and other forest detritus. His hair was a tangled mess and he wasn't wearing any shoes, his bare feet smeared with mud and the unmistakable red of blood.

In spite of all that, it was indeed Mr. Crouch. The tall man had startled badly at the sound of Bagman's surprised shout, his eyes wild and bloodshot as he began a tilted stagger towards them.

“Barty? Galloping gargoyles, man. What's happened to you?” Bagman stepped past Harry and towards Crouch, who had stopped his forward momentum to have a conversation with a tree.

Harry reached for his wand, he didn’t like the erratic way Crouch was acting.

“--remember, Weatherby, I’ll need those forms by Thursday at the latest.” The man informed the tree, sounding for all the world as if he were in an office and not barefoot at the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

“Barty, old boy, I say.” Bagman laid a hand on Crouch’s shoulder, making the man jump and flinch back before falling forward again to clutch desperately at Bagman’s cloak.

“Dumbledore! Must get Dumbledore!” Crouch rasped out, sounding as mad as he looked.

“Calm down, Barty. What’s happened?”

“Dumble..dore... must... tell...”

Bagman gave Crouch a bit of a shake, but the man just went glossy eyed again and started mumbling about permits and scheduling meetings.

“Should I get the Headmaster, then?” Harry asked slowly, not taking his eyes off the shifty Crouch.

“Yes, yes, do hurry. I’ll try and get him to start making sense.” Bagman tapped at Crouch's haggard face with the flat of his palm, “Barty, hey now, Barty.”

“Hogwarts! Must get to... need to tell... all my fault...”

“That’s right, Barty, you’re at Hogwarts. What’s your fault?”

Harry backed away a few paces before turning tail and making a break for the castle. Jax popped his head out of the satchel to hiss a complaint about the bumpy ride, but Harry didn’t slow. Something was off with Crouch. Something serious enough to warrant a half-mad hike through who knew how much highly dangerous forest. Not to mention whatever the man had come to warn them about. It had to be something to do with the Tournament.

Perhaps Crouch had found out who tampered with the Goblet, or what their goals actually were in doing so.

Or maybe even something far more sinister. The man had looked underfed and not a little run down. It was not a state a person got into overnight, Harry should know. This was a protracted issue of ill treatment.

So Harry was not about to slow his pace.

The first teacher he ran into was Professor Moody, clunking down the entryway towards the Great Hall. Harry skidded to a halt in front of him, panting slightly.

“Merciful Merlin, boy, what’s put a bee up your robes?”

“Out on the grounds,” Harry gasped, trying to catch his breath, “it’s Mr. Crouch. He’s all banged up and acting mad. Down by the pitch, Mr. Bagman is with him. I need to get the Headmaster.”

Moody’s normal eye went wide, his electric blue one whizzing into overdrive as he thumped the flagstones with his staff.

“Crouch, you say? I’d best go see what’s happened. You go on and find the Headmaster.”

“Yes, sir.” Harry turned towards the stairs as Moody swept out into the rapidly approaching evening.

As much as Harry did not wish to ever speak to Dumbledore when he did not have to, this seemed to be one of the times he would just have to deal with it. Crouch had been very specific in his desire to see the Headmaster, and Harry wanted to know exactly what the man had come to say. It seemed the easiest route to that would be to do as Crouch asked and bring him Dumbledore.

Thankfully, the next teacher he ran into was his father, conveniently outside of the Headmaster’s office.

“Dad!” Harry cried, running up the Potions Master, “Out on the grounds, it’s Crouch. He’s gone all funny and it looks like he escaped something awful. He says he needs to warn Dumbledore about something.”

“Crouch?” Severus steadied Harry with a firm hand on his shoulder, “What were you doing outside this late? It’s not safe.”

“I was with Bagman, he was showing us the maze for the Third Task. Crouch came stumbling out of the forest as we were walking back.” Harry said, swiftly explaining what had happened.

“Very well,” Severus nodded sharply, “stay here, I will inform the Headmaster. You are not to leave this castle, am I understood?”

“But--”

“No. It is too dangerous, you will stay here.”

“ _Dad_.”

“Harry,” Severus leveled a stern glare down at him, tilting Harry’s chin up with a gentle but firm hand, “stay here. I will not have you putting yourself at risk. If you wait for me in my quarters, I will inform you of anything pertinent _after_ the situation is dealt with. But I will _not_ have you putting yourself needlessly in harm's way, son. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, sir.” Harry mumbled.

“Good.” Severus ran a soothing hand over Harry’s head before releasing him completely. “Now, must speak with the Headmaster. Go down to the dungeons and await me there, I will be along as swiftly as I may.”

Harry gave a reluctant nod and turned for the stairs before saying over his shoulder, “Be careful, I don’t want you getting hurt either.”

His father nodded sharply, but there was a softness to his gaze and Harry was able to retreat without too much further trouble.

He bypassed the Great Hall entirely, taking a shortcut near the library to avoid the temptation of sneaking out onto the grounds. Once in his father’s quarters, Harry paced the length of the sitting room while Jax hissed calming words at him from the back of one of the chairs. They didn’t really help, but Harry appreciated the effort all the same.

It seemed a small eternity before his father’s footsteps sounded in the little hall leading to the corridor. Harry stopped his pacing and took in the man’s pinched expression, something bad had happened then. Or the new Crouch had brought was exceedingly terrible.

“What did he say?” Harry asked tentatively.

“I’ve no idea,” Severus replied darkly, taking a seat in his favored chair and glowering into the empty hearth, Harry hadn’t even thought to start a fire going, “by the time the Headmaster and I arrived, Crouch had evidently jumped Bagman and taken off again into the forest.”

“ _What?_ ” Harry gasped.

“Moody found Bagman unconscious by the pitch, with a trail leading back into the trees.”

“He can’t have gone far,” Harry protested, “he wasn’t even wearing _shoes_.”

“We searched as well as we could, but there was no trace past that initial trail. If he really was acting as erratic as you say, and I am inclined to believe you, it does not surprise me. Crouch is a sharp man, even half-mad, he would know how to disappear if he felt the need.”

“But he was so insistent on seeing Dumbledore, why would he just leave?”

“Of that, I have little clue. Perhaps he felt threatened, or was compelled in some manner. Whatever the reason, he was not there to be questioned.”

“Maybe Bagman will know something, did you ask him?”

“Indeed. And he knows precisely nothing past what it feels like to hit one’s head after being knocked out.”

“Crouch must have said _something_ to him.” Harry took a seat himself, feeling frustrated.

“He did at that,” Severus scowled dryly, “informing Ludo Bagman at great length about the number of international and domestic permits one needed in order to procure three nesting mother dragons. And precisely what he wished for lunch that afternoon, a watercress sandwich and a strong cup of tea, incidentally.”

Harry let out a puff of air and leaned back heavily in his chair.

“What do you think happened?”

“I do not know,” his father murmured, rubbing a finger over his lip in thought, “I would postulate nothing good, however.”

On that, Harry could more than agree.

They did not stay long in Severus’ quarters, as it was nearing dinnertime and he would not see Harry missing any meals, madmen falling out of the woods or no. Harry did not eat much, however, the evening's events robbing him of his appetite quite handily. Blaise sent him concerned looks across the table and Millicent attempted to nudge more food onto his plate, as if the mere presence of it there would make Harry stop pushing it around and actually _eat_ it.

It looked as if his premonition of things getting worse the closer to the Third Task they got was coming far more true than he would wish it.

~~~~~~~>

No news of Mr. Crouch spread through the school in the following days. Which was unsurprising, as Harry had been the only witness aside from Bagman, who was not about to talk about how a half-mad wizard had got the jump on him. Harry had told his closest friends about what he’d seen, what it implied. But they hadn’t been able to come up with any reasonings either.

And when Crouch did not turn up again, Harry was forced to push the matter to the back of his mind so that he could concentrate on the upcoming Task.

He had made up maps to study, which he did at all times of the day. Pulling out the well creased parchment whenever he had a spare moment. Which was more and more frequently as everybody else geared up to take end of year tests and Harry was left somewhat adrift. He did the classwork and the homework but did not feel the pressures of the upcoming exams, as he was exempt.

Although he might just request to take the Potions one, just because. Exam brews were always interesting and challenging.

What time he wasn’t spending studying his maps, Harry spent pouring over defense books and reading up on labyrinths in the library. They tended to be filled with all manner of nasty stuff, monsters and traps and false turns. Trick openings that led you around in circles for hours or days, until you either managed to free yourself or starved.

Harry would hope there were no minotaurs on their way to Hogwarts, but he was not about to start believing in the good sense of the Judges now of all times. Especially given the state of the last one he encountered.

No, Harry would just have to practice, and prepare, and expect the worst. At least that way if things did go smoothly, he would at least be pleasantly surprised. Which was far better than the alternative.

As for practicing the spells, Harry took to frequenting the Chamber of Secrets. It was a large empty space with plenty of room to maneuver and work on the different techniques. Often his father would join him, providing advice and instruction in precise tones with a clear depth of knowledge about what he spoke. It rankled at Harry a bit that Dumbledore still refused to appoint Severus the Defense position, when it was so obvious that Harry's father was more than suited to taking it.

When Severus was not with him, and even times that he was, Blaise, Millicent, Draco, and Neville were often on hand too. As well as the occasional addition of Justin and Ron. The later of which had balked at the idea of going into a girl's toilet but then subsequently impressed at the way the sinks lowered at a word from Harry.

“And there's no monster down there anymore right, mate?” Ron asked, peering down into the darkness.

“No, Ximen is in Spain.” Harry assured him, “He seemed pretty happy about starting a family.”

“Er, right.”

At the moment, Harry was working on his Shield Charms as Draco and Blaise shot various spells at him from different directions. He was surprised to find that he wasn't actually all that bad at it, either. He just needed to keep moving and stay focused and the magic seemed to just flow out of him. He wished more things in his life were that easy.

Justin went gliding by on Millicent's hoverboard, a giant grin on his face as he sped over the dark tiles fast enough for the wind to ruffle his hair. Not even losing a fraction of the smile when the hovering charm seemed to abruptly vanish and he went tumbling into the water with a shout that sounded suspiciously like a laugh more than anything.

Apparently, Millicent had not quite worked out all the kinks yet.

A flash of yellow zipped by Harry's head and he ducked off to the side, berating himself for getting distracted.

Jax hissed out a snakey snicker as Harry's retaliatory Knockback Jinx sent Draco over into the water as well. Something the blond did not appreciate in the least, judging by his resemblance to a very irate, bedraggled cat when he regained his feet.

“You're supposed to be working in _shields_ , not offensive magic.”

“You should always expect the unexpected, darling Draco.” Blaise drawled, leaning back against the giant statue of Salazar Slytherin, clearly amused.

Draco huffed, applying drying charms to his sodden robes and muttering darkly. But the next time Harry sent a spell his way, Draco was indeed ready for it and managed a decent shield of his own.

Sirius had also been writing with increasing frequency, sending advice and encouragement amidst long rambling letters that the did help to calm Harry. If more for their mere existence than the contents. It was tangible proof of his godfather’s concern and something Harry clung to with embarrassing severity.

The more Harry tried to prepare himself for the Third Task, the more it seemed he discovered just how little he knew. How _un_ prepared he was to face whatever torments lay in wait inside the steadily growing labyrinth out on the Quidditch pitch. The other Champions were sure to already know all the spells that he was just then learning, were probably more powerful and skilled in their implementation of them as well. They had to be, given that they were legitimately chosen for the Tournament.

Harry was just... Harry.

No matter how hard he tried, or how long he lingered down in the Chamber of Secrets practicing, he feared he would never be ready.

Which, of course, meant that the days and weeks seemed to simply fly by without so much as a by your leave. The Third Task was a month away, two weeks, two _days_.

Harry, on the eve of the final Task, took a dose of Dreamless Sleep. Something he had not had to resort to in a very long time, but he felt he would get no rest otherwise, Mind Magic or not. Although a part of him wanted to forgo sleep altogether, if only to extend the amount of time between then and the start of the Task. He knew it was a stupid impulse, but tempting nonetheless.

So he swallowed his spoonful of potion and tried not to think about how atrocious the next day was going to be.


	21. Chapter 21

Harry did not feel much up to eating at breakfast the morning of the Third Task, but the soft concern in Blaise's brown eyes across from him had Harry spreading marmalade on a piece of toast in any case. Jax was in his lap, stealing flicking sips from Harry’s neglected cup of tea and hissing out a sarcastic commentary about the eating habits of his fellow students in an effort to distract Harry from his thoughts.

“ _Look at the girl over there, there more pastry down her front than in her mouth._ ”

Harry glanced briefly at the indicated Hufflepuff first year, she did indeed seem to have dropped her breakfast all over her robes and was brushing ineffectually at it with a napkin.

“ _And there! That boy’s putting ketchup on his eggs! What did those poor eggs ever do to deserve such treatment?_ ”

Harry hmm’d and rubbed a thumb over Jax’s wedge of a head. He appreciated the effort, but Harry was not really in the mood to be distracted.

The Third Task was set for that evening right at dusk. Whether for aesthetic or because the creatures they had chosen to fill the maze with were nocturnal, Harry had no idea. He just knew that the long hours between then and now would probably not feel so distant once he finished his toast and rose from the table. Time was funny like that, always running in bursts and sprints when Harry least wanted it to.

He glanced up at the teacher’s table where his father was holding his usual stern and sharp-eyed watch over the Hall. He caught Harry’s gaze and gave him a firm nod that had something tight between his shoulder blades loosen ever so slightly. Whatever the day might bring, Severus would be there for him.

Harry managed to finish his toast and even a second slice before it was time to go to Ancient Runes. They were only doing a half-day of classes, ending at lunch, in deference to the coming event. Which most of the school was ecstatic about even as Harry wished to simply drag his feet. Hell, he’d take caring for Professor Hagrid’s skrewts alone for a full week over having to trudge through the labyrinth. That the skrewts had been steadily dwindling in number over the semester would have brought their class relief, if the remaining skrewts had not continued to grow past all reason. Professor Hagrid had thankfully decided that they had learned enough by that point that he had disappeared the things to some other place before any of the students got maimed, although Harry felt it was a bit of a close thing.

Just as he suspected, no matter how much Harry might wish it the morning did seem to very rudely fly right on by. Ancient Runes gave way to a double Herbology where they needed to squeeze bubotuber plants to collect their pus in bottles. It was disgusting work, but Harry knew the stuff was dead useful in potions so he did not mind so much squelching out yellow ooze. Blaise, on the other hand, had what looked to be a permanent sneer on his face as he attempted to do the same without actually having to touch the slightly pulsating plant. Sue Li next to them was more poking at hers curiously than anything, whilst Millicent seemed thrilled to be given permission to squeeze the devil out of something during class.

At lunch, Harry had hardly sat down when his father came over to speak with him, looking faintly pained.

“There is a matter that needs resolving,” the man explained at Harry’s curious look, “if you would kindly follow me that we might hasten it to its end? Yes, Mr. Zabini, you may come as well if you like.” The last part was said dryly as Blaise was already half out of his seat to follow them in any case.

The reason for his father’s dour mood was made quite clear as soon as Harry was led up the steps to the teacher's dais and through that same door he’d entered all those months ago when the Goblet of Fire had spat out his (old) name.

“Harry! There you are, sprog. We were wondering if Snape was actually going to fetch you or leave us here twiddling our thumbs.” Sirius grinned at him, looking far better than he had the last time Harry had seen him in the castle. He was no longer gaunt and drawn but a healthy paler, if a bit lanky in his tall form and in need of another trim to his long hair. His gray eyes were not so heavy as they once were, and although not completely without shadow, there at least was no more frenetic madness present, nor did he look down on Harry as if he were the most heartbreaking thing in existence. 

“What are you doing here?” Harry blurted, surprise at his godfather’s presence overriding his brain to mouth filter. “Er, I mean, it’s good to see you.”

Sirius barked out a laugh and stepped closer to give Harry a firm hug that nearly pulled him off his feet. He allowed it, even managed to return the gesture somewhat before the man thankfully released him.

“We’ve come to watch you, watch _over_ you, at the Task.”

“We?” Harry glanced around and spotted Ezra off to the side a bit, he grinned, sending Harry a wink and a little wiggling finger wave.

All around the room were other people as well. Cedric’s father was chatting amiably with Ludo Bagman. Viktor Krum was in the corner talking with whom Harry presumed were his parents in Bulgarian, they had the same dark and heavy features. He spotted Fleur with her little sister and a pretty woman with similar white blonde hair who had to be her mother, although Fleur’s eye kept straying to the side of the room that held a large multitude of Weasleys. Percy Weasley looked to be subbing in for Mr. Crouch again, although he did not look quite so thrilled at the moment. Harry supposed he would not either if his boss had suddenly gone mad and disappeared into a magical forest.

“You came for me?” It seemed a stupid thing to say even as the words left his mouth, but Harry still struggled with the idea that so many people actually cared for him.

“Of course, sprog. I’ll always be there for you.” Sirius gripped his shoulder reassuringly, his smile a bit lopsided and his eyes sad for a moment before he flicked them over to Blaise at Harry’s side and his look grew sly in a way that did not bode well for Harry’s complexion. “And who's this, then?”

“This is Blaise Zabini,” Harry mumbled, scratching his nose and not meeting his godfather’s eye, “my friend, er, my boyfriend...”

“ _Is_ he now?” Sirius smirked, “I thought I had read something about that in the _Prophet_ , although you can never really trust that drivel. You should have seen some of the shite they’ve scribbled out about _me_.” Sirius barked out another laugh before leveling Blaise with a considering look.

“You’re treating my godson proper, I assume?” What constituted _proper_ to Sirius Black, Harry was sure he did not want to know.

But Blaise just matched the man’s smirk with one of his own and laced his fingers firmly with Harry’s, leaning a bit into his shorter frame.

“Of course, I would never seek to upset my _tesoro_.”

Harry flushed, embarrassed, but did not try to shake the other boy off.

“Good, good. Because I have a bit of a bite and I am not overly concerned about using it.”

“Leave the lad alone, Siri.” Ezra cut in with an eye roll, “Don’t listen to him, he’s just a big puppy.”

“Hey now, I’m only trying to fulfill my duties as godfather here, Ez. I gotta vet the kid, make sure he knows what’s what.”

“You certainly do not, and I am sure _Harry_ would appreciate it if you stopped embarrassing him in front of his cute little boyfriend.”

“ _Me_? Embarrassing? I never.”

Harry resisted the urge to bury his face in his hands, if only because one was still trapped by Blaise, who seemed far too amused for his liking. He settled for sending a pleading look over to his father, who was talking quietly with Remus a few feet away. Thankfully, Severus came right over and drew some of the attention away.

“I believe it is time for Harry to return to his meal, Black.”

Sirius scowled at Severus for a second before smiling once more at Harry.

“Then, by all means, lead the way. I’ve never had occasion to eat at the Slytherin table before, it should be an experience.”

That was probably not what the Potions Master had been going for, but Harry would take the opportunity in any case. Anything to get Sirius and Ezra to stop teasing him for a moment.

The rest of the room seemed to be following suit as they all began to trickle out and back into the Great Hall to find seats of their own amongst the students.

It was a bit of a ridiculous meal as Harry continued to dodge questions about him and Blaise, amongst other things. He ended up eating much more than he might have otherwise, simply for the excuse of not speaking with food in his mouth. Draco and Sirius got to talking at one point, their conversation a little stilted but smoother by the end.

As there were no classes after lunch, Harry was left to his own devices until the start of the Third Task. He spent the majority of the time with his godfather and Ezra, walking the castle and grounds and listening to nostalgic stories from their school days. Sirius thankfully steered clear of any discussion of his less than savory pastimes, or his treatment of Harry’s father. Seeming to finally understand that he would get no good reaction out of Harry if he were to bring it up.

Perhaps there was hope then, that the two of them might be able to eventually inch past reluctant tolerance for Harry’s sake and into just regular tolerance, or maybe even the fledglings of acquaintanceship. Harry would not hold his breath for that, however, it was enough that Severus and Sirius could stand to occupy the same room without hexes flying for now.

Blaise and Millicent tagged along for much of the afternoon as they meandered. And they even came across Luna Lovegood at one point. When Harry introduced them properly, she looked up at Sirius with her wide, protuberant eyes and said in her breathy, ethereal way, “You look remarkably like Stubby Boardman.”

“The singer for the Hobgoblins?’ Sirius raised a surprised brow.

“Hmm, yes.” Luna nodded sagely, fiddling with one of her radish earrings, “Are you much of a singer, Mr. Black?”

“I haven't actually given it much thought, perhaps I should.”

Luna smiled vaguely, but Harry could tell she was pleased.

“Good luck with your Task, Harry.” She said to him next, “I have something here that should help.”

She began rummaging around in her bag, humming softly to herself what Harry strongly suspected to be a Hobgoblin’s song. She pulled out a crumpled bit of parchment, three books, two feathered cat toys, a handful of Bertie Botts, and a singular striped mitten, handing each item in turn to a bemused Ezra before making a softly triumphant noise and revealing what looked to be a braided bracelet.

“Here we go, I made this for you last night. It’s for good luck and should help keep any creeping verthumths away from your shoelaces. They like to tie them together into knots when you’re not looking. Hold out your hand.”

Harry did so, feeling an odd sort of warm affection for the girl as she carefully fastened the blue and green band around his wrist. There were flecks of silver in it like stars speckling the night sky.

“Thank you, Luna. This is brilliant.” It was true, even if the thing did not bring him an ounce of luck or protect his shoelaces, the gesture itself was worth far more than that. As was the smile the words drew from the girl.

At another point in the afternoon, they came across the gaggle of Weasleys and Harry spent a good forty-five minutes chatting with Charlie Weasley about dragons and what it had been like speaking with one. Charlie was _very_ enthusiastic on the subject of dragons and strongly urged Harry to pursue a career in them as well.

“Your gift would be an invaluable asset to any preserve. Imagine just being able to _ask_ an ailing subject what was bothering them. Or just what sort of dispute was going on between agitated nests.”

Harry rubbed his throat ruefully, remembering just how torn up it had felt after the First Task. as much as it might disappoint Charlie Weasley and the dragonkeeper community at large, he did not think he wanted to join them.

By the time dinner rolled around, anxiety towards the coming Task had solidified into a heavy weight in his stomach. Making it near impossible to eat anything, no matter the urging of his companions. When the announcement was made that everyone should head down to the Quidditch pitch, Harry pushed his untouched plate away and stood on wooden legs. The walk down the grounds was done in a haze as Harry ran through every spell he had practiced in the last months and every bit of lore on labyrinths he had ever come across.

“You will be fine, Harry.” Sirius said as he was about to part for the stands with Ezra and Harry’s friends. “We’ll be here, watching over everything.”

“Okay.” The singular word sounded flat even to his own ears.

Both Sirius and Ezra gave him parting hugs while Millicent chucked him on the shoulder and Blaise pressed a soft kiss to his lips that Harry could not even find in himself to be embarrassed about over the anxiety.

“You are strong, _caro_ , you will get through this.”

His father was the last to leave, walking with Harry all the way the entrance to the maze, where the other Champions were standing and looking far more impressive than Harry himself felt.

“You are not alone, son. I am here.”

Harry choked up a bit and nodded, forcing himself to take a deep breath.

“Thank you, I... thank you.”

Severus drew him into hug and Harry buried his nose in the familiar scent of potion ingredients and spices that forever clung to the man’s robes. It smelled more of home than anything Harry could imagine.

When he went to hand over Jax for the third and final time, the serpent slithered out of his satchel and wrapped himself firmly around Harry’s arm and over his shoulders.

“ _No, I won’t let you go in there without me. I’ll burn the stupid fucking hedges to the ground if I have to._ ”

“ _Jax, you have to go with Severus. I’ll be fine. Plus, I think they are probably warded against stuff like that so we can’t just blast our way to the center._ ”

“ _No. I won’t leave you._ ”

“ _I don’t want you getting hurt, Jax. I need you to stay safe._ ”

“ _And how do you think_ I _feel?_ ” The serpent hissed sharply, butting his head up against Harry’s temple so forcefully that it knocked his glasses askew.

“ _I need you to be safe,_ ” Harry repeated, gently stroking his snake’s neck, “ _and I need you to keep Severus safe._ ”

Jax heaved a reluctant sigh, “ _Fine, but only because he sneaks me eggs sometimes._ ”

Harry snorted, unsurprised by the confession, he knew his father had a soft spot for the serpent, even if he would never admit to such aloud. Jax begrudgingly allowed Harry to unwind him from his person and settle over the Potions Master’s shoulders instead. By that point, Ludo Bagman was sending them very pointed looks and tapping at his watch. Harry ignored him.

“I will be watching, Harry.” It seemed almost a mantra at this point, and Harry clung to the words fiercely, allowing this to bolster his nerves and square his shoulders.

Then he was alone once more, with only his wand and his wits and a labyrinth full of dangerous uncertainty before him.

“All right, folks! Now that we have all of our illustrious Champions present and ready, it is time to begin the Final Task of the Triwizard Tournament!” Bagman’s magically enhanced voice called out over the cheers of the crowd. “The first one to brave their way through our devious maze of ticks and dangers and grab the Triwizard Cup will be crowned the Triwizard Champion!”

They would be entering the maze staggered by the number of points they’d earned thus far. Surprisingly, Harry’s lackluster performance in the Second Task had been made up by his negotiation tactics in the First one leaving him tied for first with Cedric. Following narrowly on their heels was Viktor and then Fleur last.

Bagman rambled on a bit more before saying, “So without further ado! Mr. Cedric Diggory and Mr. Harry P- _Snape_ , you may enter on my whistle.” Harry smirked, turning his glare away from the man, at least there was one good thing.

At the shrill signal both Harry and Cedric stepped through the tall hedged archway and into the maze.

“Cheers, Harry,” the other boy said as they came to the first fork in the road, “good luck.”

Harry nodded mutely back and they parted ways.

The walls of the maze were towering and muffled much of the noise of the crowd. It was at least well lit enough that Harry did not feel the need light the wand in his hand, but there were still shadows clinging to corners and the odd rustle of leaves here and there. At the next fork, Harry attempted to think back on his laboriously studied maps and chose right, but the next fork after that had three turn-offs when it should have only had two. So the maze was shifting around them or had shifted already, either way his mental maps were less than useless now.

“ _Point Me_.” He held his wand flat on the palm of his hand and watched it spin until it landed quivering towards north. He should be able to navigate the labyrinth if he kept moving in basically the same direction as much as possible.

The first trap that Harry came across was a slightly shimmering veil that distorted the air ever so lightly, he had almost missed it entirely but just barely managed to not walk straight through the mysterious obstacle.

He tried first to blow the sheen away with a blast of air, but that had little effect. Harry pondered a moment before raising his wand again, thinking it would be way too simple a solution, “ _Finite incantatem_?”

The vail dissipated at once and Harry narrowed his eyes suspiciously, it had seemed far too easy. But he supposed that maybe it had been more about testing your situational awareness than your ability to disarm traps. He had almost walked right into it, after all.

A few twists and turns later he came across a boggart playing at being a dementor. The only reason Harry knew it was a boggart was because when the air had gone cold and the light seemed to be sucked away as the hooded figure rose from its hiding spot with a loud, rattling breath, Harry had shouted a forceful _expecto patronum_ and watched as his awkward, bobbing bat of a patronus burst out of his wand and flew at the threat. The dementor had not shrieked or flow off into the night as he had expected, no, it stubbled back on its own robes and fell on its arse.

“Oh,” Harry muttered, as his bat flapped around the trembling thing, battering at it with its little shining wings, “boggart. _Riddikulus_.”

Both the patronus and the boggart vanished and Harry began making his way forward again.

He did not come across anything else for a long while and the lack of threats made his already tight shoulders hunch in that much more. It was all too easy. Something wanted him to get through this maze, or else the creators were not as clever or vicious as Harry had been giving them credit for. There should be more, the maze was supposed to be _filled_ with all manner of ridiculous and unsafe things that should never be in one spot, let alone a _school_.

But there was nothing.

Of course, as soon as he had the thought, Harry heard a loud scream from off to the right. It had sounded like Fleur. Harry turned in that direction, coming across Cedric as he did so at the next junction.

“Did you hear that scream?” The Hufflepuff asked, looking around at the surrounding empty passages.

“Yeah, should we go help?”

‘I think so,” Cedric nodded, gripping his wand as there was another shrill wail, “she might have come across one of Hagrid’s skrewts, they’re _massise_. One nearly got me before I managed to escape.”

Ah, so that explained where the skrewts had gone.

They jogged down the hedgerow, turning right and then taking a center path before bursting out into another crossroads, at the center of which stood Viktor Krum over the body of Fleur Delacour. Krum had a blank look about his face and Fleur was bleeding from a cut on her head but looked to be breathing.

“Viktor?” Cedric asked, stepping forward.

“Don’t--”

Harry tried to warn the other boy, but was too late as Krum turned his blank face and his steady wand on Cedric and said in a low monotone, “ _Crucio_.”

Red light shot straight at the Hufflepuff and Harry shouted in quick succession, “ _Protego! Expelliarmus! Flipendo!_ ”

The first spell was aimed between the Unforgivable and Cedric, the shimmering shield bursting into being just in time to shatter against the red force of the curse. Next Krum’s wand went flying over the nearest hedge and the man himself was knocked clean off his large feet to land in the dirt three yards down the path with a painful sounding thump. Harry winced a bit, he hadn’t meant to hit Krum with quite so much force.

“Harry? Wow, how did you--? What’s _happening_? Krum, he tried to... an _Unforgivable_.” Cedric was gaping at him with wide, guileless eyes.

“It wasn’t him, not really.” Harry said, scanning the surrounding area and not lowering his wand an inch as he crept forward to check on Fluer. “I think he was Imperioed. You saw how blank his face was, his eyes were all unfocused and there was no way my Shield Charm would have held up against a real Cruciatus. Remember? Moody said you had to _mean_ it, there’s no way you could mean it while being forced into it.”

Fleur was passed out cold but breathing steadily and with a strong pulse, the cut on her head was still bleeding but sluggishly.  
“That was really quick thinking, Harry. I don’t think I’ve _ever_ casted a shield that strong. Thank you. Even if it wasn’t at full power, that would have still hurt a whole bloody lot.”

“Er, you’re welcome.” Harry replied awkwardly, “Keep your wand on him, just in case.”

He episkied Fleur’s cut and it thankfully stopped bleeding but there was still a faint line that might scare if she didn’t get to Madam Pomfrey soon.

Krum was groaning on the ground now, muttering darkly to himself in Bulgarian, which Harry supposed was a sign that he was back to his senses.

“I think we should send up red sparks,” Harry said, rising back to his feet and still scanning the area closely, “somebody cast the Imperius on Krum, they might still be in here. And Fleur needs a healer.”

“Good thinking.” Cedric nodded, doing just that, Harry followed suit.

A few long moments later Professors McGonagall and Moody rounded the corner, the former almost tripping over Krum’s groaning and prone form whilst the latter's electric blue eye took in the scene with dizzying efficiency.

“Good gracious, boys, what’s happened here?” McGonagall gasped, bending down to check on Krum, who muttered (and Harry suspected swore) but managed to sit up.

Harry let Cedric explain as he continued to watch their surroundings, energy seemed to be zipping through his veins, making every little rustle of leaves or whistle of wind seem overloud and contentious.

“That was some swift spellwork from what Diggory says, boy.” Moody murmured, he had moved closer and was scanning the area in the same way Harry was, although Moody was probably far and away more experienced at it. “Good instincts. You would make a fine Auror, I would think.”

“I don’t want to be an Auror.” Harry was not sure about very much of his future, but he did know that.

“Pity. We could use more wands with that sort of gut intuition.”

“Can we leave now?” Harry asked, as much to change the subject as to move this entire night along.

“Aye, best be doing that for sure. Whoever was behind this little stunt needs dealing with, and not nicely.”

Harry could not agree more.

“You good with that great lug, Minerva? I’ll get the lassie and we can head out.”

McGonagall gave a sharp nod of her own and Cedric moved to help Krum to his feet. Moody flicked his wand and Fleur began floating before them towards the center of the pack as they moved out. It should not take them long to leave the maze, Harry thought, glancing behind them constantly. His father would know what to do.

Harry should really learn to stop thinking so positively, as a moment later while turning a bend in the maze a hedge sprung up before them, cutting Harry and Moody off from the rest of the group.

“Damn blasted maze.” Moody growled, thunking his staff against the ground before raising his voice, “Keep going, Minerva, we’ll meet you on the outside.”

“Are you certain, Alastor?”

“Aye, it’s not far in any case.”

“Very well. I will see you momentarily, then.”

“Keep a sharp eye out, boy,” Moody said to him, tapping under his own spinning prosthetic, “this way.”

Moody led them on a circuitous route through the hedges, one designed to avoid all hazards whilst getting them free. “Swamp over there, suck you right down. Pack of red pixies around that bend, much more vicious than their blue cousins. Garrotting gas, nasty stuff.”

Eventually Moody brought them before a thin sliver of an opening in the hedge that once they pushed through reviled a large clearing with a small dais at its center, upon which a gleaming trophy sat.

“Is that the Triwizard Trophy? Why did you bring us here, this is the opposite of leaving.” Harry eyed Moody suspiciously as they approached the dais, the man barked out a gruff laugh.

“Don’t miss much, do you, boy? Trophy’s a portkey to the entrance, faster than going all the way through again.”

“I suppose.” Harry reluctantly agreed, he hoped it would not count as winning. Although, that would be pretty par for the course in this whole farce.

“Well, go on, count of three and we grab it, yeah? Before the acromantula notices we’re here.”

“The what now?!” Harry sputtered, looking around the clearing wildly and spotting the giant spider uncurling from a massive web in the corner. It had far too many eyes and legs and pincers for Harry to be at all comfortable with, so when Moody counted down he did not hesitate to lay a hand on the closest handle.

~~~~~~~>

The Triwizard Cup was indeed a portkey, but not one that led to the entrance to the maze.

No. Harry dropped down onto a dark and overgrown graveyard. They had to be miles and miles away from Hogwarts because he could not even see the mountains that surrounded the lands anymore. Beyond the graveyard was an old church behind a yew tree and in the distance, Harry thought he could see a large house on a hill. Not that any of that mattered at the moment, as Harry was quickly backtracking away from Moody and the abandoned portkey, wand raised and pointed at the man.

“Where are we? Why have you brought me here?” Harry began Occluding at once, something he should have done from the moment he’d seen Krum compromised. “ _You_ put my name in the Goblet, didn’t you?”

“Clever, clever, Potter.” Moody smirked in a way that pulled horridly at his chewed up face, holding his own wand casually.

“ _Snape_.”

“Ack,” the man spat on the ground, “ _Snape_. Severus Snape thinks he’s so brilliant. Thinks he knows everything, the greasy, traitorous, swine. That might just be the best part about this whole thing little _Snape_ : pulling the wool over that bastards eyes for a whole year and him being none the wiser.”

“You aren’t Moody, are you? You’ve never been Moody.” Harry shuddered, still backing away slowly with every word. “The missing ingredients, boomslang, knotgrass, you’ve been making _Polyjuice_.”

“Correct again, perhaps the hat should have placed you in my own House instead of the one of serpents.”

“Let me guess, Ravenclaw?”

Even as he spoke, the man who was not Alastor Moody gave a shudder, his torn and beaten face twisting and contorting into impossibly more grotesques shapes as it reformed into its original configuration. The magical blue eye popped out and went spinning into the dirt, the wooden leg following with a low thunk as new growth retook the vacant spaces. By the end of the transformation, the man before him had stretched taller and thinner, with straw-blond hair and a long nose free of bite marks. His eyes were a dark brown bright with the type of madness that came from believing yourself both the most clever and righteous person in the world while raining down destruction wherever you step foot.

Harry felt rooted to the spot, his wand hand only steady by dint of his ironclad Occluding.

“Who are you?”

The man gave a mocking bow, kicking the wooden leg away into the overgrown shrubbery.

“Bartemius Crouch Junior, a pleasure to make your acquaintance. You shall be an invaluable asset for my master tonight.”

“But you were supposed to have died in Azkaban,” Harry protested, “your father sent you there. Sirius told me.”

Crouch Junior spat on the ground again, the gesture somehow made viler by the unscarred nature of his face, “Sirius Black is a traitor to the House of Black. I knew from the moment my father tossed him away without a second thought that he was wrong to do so. That man never served my master as he should have, as his father did, as his _brother_ did. Anyone with eyes could see that.”

“How did you escape then?”

“My mother, weak, sentimental fool that she was,” Crouch rolled his eyes, prowling closer to Harry across the gravedirt, “we switched places. Dementors can’t see, you know, no eyes. She was dying and so when she came to visit me one last time we switched and she stayed behind. I should never have been there in the first place. If Bella hadn’t wanted to have a bit of _fun_ , we would not have spent the last fourteen years without our leader. But no,” he took on a high falsetto, “ _oh, Barty, it will be such fun. They deserve it, Barty. If the Dark Lord had just chosen their son instead._ I told that bitch to just kill them quick, but no, she wanted to torture the Longbottoms because they made such funny noises as they screamed.”

He giggled himself as Harry’s blood ran cold.

“Do you know how long it takes someone to be tortured into insanity, little Snape? At least as long as it takes for the thrice-cursed neighbors to notice the noise and alert the Aurors because _somebody_ forgot to put up the fucking Silencing Charms! You hear that, Rodolphus?! You worthless, inbred, fuckwit! I hope you die in that hellhole, because if you ever get out, the Longbottom’s fate will pale in comparison to what I’ll do to you!” Crouch was shouting at the sky, shaking his fist and Harry tried to take the opportunity to make a break for it.

He only made it three steps before he was magically yanked back and thrown hard against the lone yew tree. It knocked the air out of him but he managed to keep hold of his wand which he used to cast his second Shield Charm of the night. Although this one was a bit wobbly around the edges as his head was rattled from hitting the tree.

“Now, now, none of that. You are our special guest, it would be terribly rude to try and leave before the party has even begun.”

Crouch smirked down at him, staring at Harry through the shimmer of his shield as if it were no more than a mildly inconvenient veil. Harry let it drop, there was no point to draining himself when it was obvious that he was needed alive, at least for the moment.

“So what? You’re father’s just been keeping you under lock and key? This whole time?”

“Lock, key, enchantment, the works. It took a great deal of effort for me to break free of that man’s Imperio. And I must say, I took an equal amount of pleasure in killing him. It was very lucky for me that you happened to run into me first that night he came stumbling out of the woods. Mad as he was, Dumbledore would have sorted it and ruined _everything_.”

“Why didn’t you just snatch me earlier? It would have been easy to grab me in Hogsmeade, or even right off the train. Why the song and dance with the Tournament?” Harry asked, maybe if he keep Crouch talking long enough, there would be time to do... something.

“Partly my own amusement, partly an excuse to bring a portkey onto the grounds, but mostly because the potion was not ready.”

“What potion?” Harry had a feeling he really did not want to know.

“Why, the one to bring back my master, of course. The Dark Lord rises this night, little Snape, and it will be all thanks to you.”

He then flicked his wand again and Harry was dragged across the bracken and dirt to slam up against a gravestone, etched into were the words _TOM RIDDLE_.

Heavy ropes were conjured around him and the grave marker before Harry could so much as utter a protest, his wand forced from his hand by Crouch.

“Sit tight, it should all be over soon.”

Crouch left him then, heading towards the church and whistling merrily. As soon as the man was out of sight, Harry began struggling with the ropes. There was no knot to untie, however, and they were wrapped too tightly even for his thin frame to slip under. He cast around for any sort of sharp tool but the graveyard was empty except for scraggly grass, overgrown tombstones, and pebbles too small to be of any use.

Maybe if he heated the ropes? Would he be able to burn them away in time to avoid hurting himself beyond repair?

It was worth a try at least.

He wriggled his arm as much as he could under its confines until he could lay a steady hand again a coil of rope. He thought about how he’d burnt that paper to ash, how angry he’d been and how easy it had gone up. But Harry wasn’t angry right now, he was frightened and alone, two very cold things.

Letting out a slow, tight breath, Harry brought up his mental shields from where they’d slipped and tried again. Hot, fire, escape.

Relief flooded him as he felt his fingers warm and catch fire as he seen Remus do on the train back in third year. His had been bright green, like a Floo, but when Harry looked down at his own fingers they were bathed in licking purple flames the same color as Jax’s eyes. The sight bolstered him as the tingling sensation of holding fire in his hand temporarily overrode his utter terror.

The elation did not last long however as it soon became clear the ropes were immune to the fire. He snuffed the flames before he set his own clothes to burning and kicked and scrapped and the ground in frustration.

“ _Why so upset, little one?_ ” A voice hissed from behind him, sounding amused.

“ _Where are you? You shouldn’t be here. They’ll hurt you too_.” Harry answered quietly back, going still.

“ _No one will hurt me here, Speaker._ ” From around the gravestone, a very large pit viper slithered.

Well, relatively large compared to Jax, but absurdly tiny if he were to say Ximen. Big enough, however, that Harry would not be surprised in the least to find she was able to swallow a man whole. She was dark green and crawled over Harry’s legs as if she wanted him to feel how very easy it would be for her to engulf them completely.

“ _I knew a boy like you once, when I was_ other _, a friend._ ” The snake continued, circling around and around where Harry sat bound, “ _He was dark haired as well, full of sweetness, wanted to rescue me too._ ”

“ _What happened to him?_ ”

“ _He did rescue me. And then he_ left.” This last part was spat with such venom in the words that actual drops of it fell from her fangs to sizzle and blacken the dry grass.

“ _I’m sorry._ ” Harry told her, honest and true, “ _I’m sorry that happen to you._ ”

“ _It matters not, Speaker._ ” She said in a way that belied the words, but Harry was not about to argue the point. “ _I found a new friend, a new family, one that will never leave me as he did._ ”

“ _What’s your name?_ ”

“ _Nagini. Now silence, little one, they come._ ”

Crouch was indeed emerging from the church, holding a bundle swaddled in a dark cloth and followed by a very large man floating an even larger cauldron.

“Over there, Macnair, _carefully_. We can’t afford any screw-ups, we are so close.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Macnair grunted, setting the large cauldron gently on the ground. It settled heavily and was big enough for a grown man to sit in comfortably. 

Nagini continued to circle him, though she widened her parameter to include Crouch and cauldron as well.

Macnair stomped over to him on heavily booted feet, he was wearing very black robes with a deep hood that was pulled back at the moment. There was a bone white mask of some sort sticking out of his pocket and Harry was fairly confident that the man before him was a Death Eater.

“Potter. Bit punier than I imagined.” He spat on the ground, or where the ground would have been had Harry not been occupying the space. He nearly let out a hysterical giggle at the thought of what Blaise might have to say about the state of his robes by that point in the night.

“Snape, actually. Just so we’re all clear on that.” Harry may have left all his good sense back in the maze, if he’d ever had any to begin with.

“Oh, crystal clear, runt. That stuck up bastard’ll get his, don’t you worry. Not a’for we have a bit o’ fun with you first.” Macnair leered, showing off crooked yellow teeth.

“Leave him, Macnair, help me with this.”

The man stomped back off, obediently kneeling to light a fire under the massive cauldron. Inside, the liquid seemed clear as far as Harry could tell, but it was hard to see from his angle and far too dark. As it began to bubble and sparks to fly from the surface, the bundle in Crouch’s arms squirmed and a terrible, seething voice came out of it.

“ _Hurry._ ”

“Yes, Master.” Crouch and Macnair echoed, and then Crouch alone, “It is ready, Master.”

“ _Do it now..._ ”

Crouch carefully unwrapped the dark cloth to reveal an ugly, shrunken thing. It was pale and scaly with snakelike slits where its nose should have been. Crouch carefully lowered the monster into the potion and Harry hoped fiercely that it drowned, though he knew he could never be that lucky.

“ _Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son!_ ”

The dirt between Harry’s feet roiled and turned until a pale white thing shot out of the ground to plop gently into cauldron making it turn a vivid, acidic blue.

“ _Flesh of the servant, willingly given, you will revive your master!_ ” Crouch shook back the sleeve of the robe he now wore in place of Moody’s ragged greatcoat, an unsurprising match for Macnair’s, and held his bare wrist over the hissing and roiling brew. There was a manic glint in his eye matched only by the grin on his face as he swung down with a silver knife and severed his own hand at the wrist.

The potion turned a burning red as Crouch cackled with insane delight, raising his bleeding stump to the skies in triumph.

“ _Blood of the enemy, forcefully taken, you will resurrect your foe!_ ”

Before Harry could so much as blink, Crouch was on him with the silver knife. He shoved back Harry’s sleeve, exposing his arm to the night, backhanding him with his bloody stump when Harry tried to twist away. Crouch cut deep into his arm, but thankfully not a very long incision. It was still enough to easily fill a vial he pulled from his pocket.

When that was added to the potion it turned a bright, blinding white that lit the graveyard as if it were midday before dimming and billowing out a cloud of thick, steamy smoke.

Nothing happened for a few long seconds where Harry held onto the hope that something might have gone wrong. But no, a figure was emerging from the cauldron, fully grown and pale as a skull with burning red eyes and slits where his nose ought to be.

“Robe me.” Said the high, cold voice of Lord Voldemort as he stepped cleanly from the cauldron.

Macnair did as bade, holding up a robe that was more dark gray than true black and helping his master into it.

“Hold out your arm, Bartemius.” Voldemort ordered, turning towards the bleeding man.

Crouch held up his left arm eagerly, “Yes, Master.”

“Now,” Voldemort murmured, pushing back the dark robe sleeve to reveal a starkly black tattoo of a skull and snake against the man’s skin, “let us see who will be brave enough to return once they feel the call. They will have known this was coming, it was inevitable. Still, we shall see.” He pressed a spidery finger against the mark and it seemed to pulse against Crouch’s skin as the man shivered in either pain or pleasure, Harry did not want to know which. Across from them, Macnair was already kneeling in the dirt, his mask firmly in place.

All around Harry, figures in similar garb began popping into existence, kneeling low to the ground at the sight of their erstwhile master.

If Voldemort was pleased by the promptness, he did not show it. Instead, stepping over to Harry on bare feet, mindless of rocks or twigs or blood.

“Ah, Mr. Potter. I have been waiting a very long time to speak with you once more.”

“It’s Snape, actually,” Harry sighed, resigning himself to his fate at the hands of this monster and losing whatever shred of self-preservation he might have been clinging to by continuing, “how did that dirt taste three years ago? Better or worse than garlic flavored turban?”

There was a rash of scandalised gasps from the surrounding and ever expanding group of black robed wizards.

“Hmm, acerbic biting in the face of certain death? Perhaps you are a Snape at that.” Voldemort did not smile, did not frown, he simply stared at Harry with his eerie red eyes. “ _Crucio._ ”

Pain. Unending and like nothing he had ever felt before. It set fire to his every nerve, building and building until all he could do was writhe against his bonds and scream. 

And then it was gone, leaving his muscles twitching and sore.

“ _I like him_.” Hissed Nagini from her place, circling them all.

“ _Do you, my sweet?_ ” The Dark Lord did smile then, ever so faintly, “ _Perhaps I will allow you to have him afterwards._ ”

“ _I am pretty likeable when it comes to snakes,_ ” Harry cut in, panting, he would blame his lack of a filter on the blood loss and adrenaline if by some miracle he managed to survive, “ _I even made friends with that basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets. Ximen did not appreciate being turned against his purpose, by the way, that was pretty rude of you._ ”

“ _You found the Chamber?_ ” Voldemort inquired, his tone tinged now with a musing sort of possessiveness, “ _Perhaps we are better matched adversaries than I first imagined._ ”

“Of course,” he continued in English, raising his cold voice to be heard clearly across the graveyard, “it matters not. You will die here, Harry _Snape_ , and I will be the one to kill you. But first, a few things to clear up.”

~~~~~~~>

Severus Snape was anxiously pacing the entrance to maze, as soon as red sparks had been seen he had tried to enter but the magic of the blasted labyrinth let in only authorised beings. The Champions, the Judges, and a select number of teachers to act as emergency response. Severus had been disqualified from that position given his closeness to one of the Champions.

_A conflict of interest._

Merlin’s saggy balls, Severus would show them _conflict_ if his son was not returned to him in all due haste.

As if summoned by his very ire, a group of people made egress from the sculpted entrance, Minerva at the head, floating the unconscious French girl with Cedric Diggory supporting Viktor Krum as they hobbled along. There was no sign of Harry.

An angry hiss near his ear seemed to share in his displeasure and Severus stoked the serpent with a firm hand.

“Calm yourself, we will find him.’

He approached Minerva as Poppy came bustling down to take charge of the wounded.

“What happened? Where is Harry?”

“He’s not back yet?” Minerva looked around, as if her stern gaze alone could force the boy into existence before her, if only. “He was with Alastor, we got separated, I expect they should be out any moment.”

“What happened?” Remus echoed from Severus’ elbow as Albus joined them.

“Somebody was casting Unforgivables.” Diggory spoke up, he was pale and shaking but his shoulders were squared and he was standing tall now that he was relieved of his burden. “Harry blocked a Cruciatus from hitting me, and he helped Viktor break free of the Imperious. It was brilliant.”

Krum grumbled darkly and rubbed the back of his head.

Severus turned to Albus, “You will let me into that maze or I will blast into it myself.”

The serpent on his shoulder hissed what Severus assumed to be enthusiastic encouragement for the second option.

“Severus, there will be no need for that, I assure you.” Albus demurred, stroking his long beard. But he was staring at the maze with ne’er a twinkle in sight. “Alastor will watch over the boy.” 

But a thought had occurred to Severus, a terrible, bone chilling thought. Given the scant number of beings allowed within the maze that also held the knowledge, the skill, and the slant to use Unforgivables. It could only be one person that cast those spells in that maze. The Judges were all up in the stands, the Champions obviously victims and Minerva before him.

Moody.

It had been Moody the entire year.

No, not _Moody_ , Severus corrected himself, a person _Polyjuiced_ into Alastor Moody.

Crouch.

It had to be. He was the only outlier in all of this. The only puzzle piece that did not slot neatly into place. Whenever Severus would check the Map, he would be on it, wandering the school for no discernible reason. Severus had dismissed it at the time and he was kicking himself for such a slight now. Such an idiotic mistake that might cost him _everything_.

Crouch was Moody, but still it did not add up. Crouch would have been able to enter the maze at will, without bothering with the disguise. And the man himself had gone round the twist quite heavily before tonight.

What if... No, it couldn’t be.

Even as he considered the theory of it, he knew it to be truth. Barty Crouch Junior was alive, free of Azkaban and whatever shackles his father had put upon him in the prison’s stead.

And he had taken Harry.

As if to emphasize the point, the Dark Mark on his left arm suddenly blazed hot and angry with wrathful knowledge, a summons, a command to come to heel or face utter and complete destruction.

Severus gasped, could not stop himself.

“What is it? Severus?” Remus touched his shoulder, amber flecked eyes brimming with far too soft concern.

He clutched at the wolf’s front, hissing urgently, “Go to Spinner’s End, I will meet you there.”

“Sev-”

“ _Go!_ ”

Remus turned and sprinted for the gates, Severus turned to Albus next.

“He has returned.” The old man’s eyes grew steely and his face hardened, “In Moody’s office, I believe you will find a trunk, inside of which you will most assuredly find the real Alastor Moody. I must leave now.”

“Severus, he will kill you if you go.” Albus stated, no inflection one way or the other even as Minerva gasped and clutched at her tartan scarf.

“It would not be worth continuing to exist if I did not, I don’t expect you to understand Albus. You may run a school full of them, but you have no children of your own.”

With that, he turned on his heel, summoned his magic into sharp focus and rose from the ground to fly towards the gates that marked the boundary of the anti-apparition wards at speed. He passed over the still running Remus without pausing and hardly waited long enough to cast a Disillusionment Charm upon himself and his reptilian passenger before twisting into the darkness and coming out the other side floating above a pair of gravestones.

Muffling his presence from the steadily growing population of Death Eaters, Severus gently alighted on the ground and crept slowly toward the center of the graveyard.

“You will not rush in, serpent.” He cautioned the snake who was quivering with pent up energy against his neck. “If we are careful we may be able to do this without Harry coming into further danger.”

There was a disgruntled hiss, which was most likely the best that Severus could hope for at that moment.

The Dark Lord was speaking. And it _was_ him: deathly pale, red-eyed, the lack of a nose was new, but Severus supposed necromancy had its price.

His arm burned, the Mark upon it vile and writhing like a living thing.

There was Crouch Junior, kneeling reverently before the Dark Lord as the man conjured him a new hand where there had a been bleeding stump not moments before.

“Thank you, my Lord.” Crouch cried, prostrating himself before his master and kissing the hem of his robes.

“Loyalty is rewarded, Bartemius, and you have been most loyal. Lord Voldemort thanks you for your service these long months. It could not have been easy.”

“It was not my Lord, but I would do anything for you.”

“Good. I have many plans that will need talented, _clever_ , minds such as yours. Now, go untie the boy and return his wand. We have a matter to settle between us still.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

Severus crept ever closer as Crouch freed his son, who was _bleeding_ , and hauled him to his feet.

“Time’s up, little Snape, let’s see if you are so snarky after this.”

“Oh, I’m sure I’ll manage somehow.” Harry groaned, and Severus really needed to teach the boy about appropriate times for backtalk.

Just as soon as he got them both out of there alive.

“We will duel,” Voldemort told his son, taking up a proper stance as if this were a friendly bout and not a killing floor, “to duel properly, one must bow to their opponent. _Bow_.”

The word tingled with power, forceful and heady in nature, but Harry did not bow. _Good boy_ , Severus smirked, _you have progressed far in your Mind Magic._

The Dark Lord did not seem quite as amused, commanding the gesture again, and once more being rebuffed.

“I see your father has taught you a few tricks,” Voldemort sneered, fingering his wand, “it is too bad that you will not live to see him again. Do not worry, though, I will send dear Severus your head so that he may know his loss truly and wholly.”

“Are we talking or fighting?” Harry, his foolish, self-destructive son taunted the Dark Lord. Severus would have a hard time reprimanding the boy for it, given the pride swelling in his breast.

“I will enjoy ripping that tongue from your skull, child. _Crucio_.”

Harry dodged instead of attempting to shield, giving himself more time to throw a spell of his own at the Dark Lord. And though it was easily deflected, the move was a good one. Harry would be an accomplished duelist one day, but to get there, they would have to survive the night.

And so Severus took careful aim at his former master and murmured with all the conviction of a parent protecting their child, “ _Avada Kedavra._ ”

The bolt of green light hit Voldemort square between the shoulder blades, washing over the gray robes as he collapsed to the ground.

His cover blown, Severus apparated to his son’s side and grabbed firm hold of his arm.

“Dad?! Jax?!”

“ _Severus Snape!_ ” A high, cold voice called from behind them.

No. No. He had not missed. Voldemort had fallen. He. Had. Not. Missed.

The serpent on his shoulder spit something hot and viscus behind them and smoke began to quickly fill the graveyard as the brittle dry grass caught fire. Severus wasted no more time and gathered Harry close to himself even as spells began flying through the air and twisted them away.

Appearing again square in the center of the sitting room at Spinner’s End. Harry was shaking in his arms, clinging to his robes and Severus was hard pressed not to give in and allow them to stay like that forever drawing comfort from one another.

“Dad, you came, you saved me, you--”

“I will always save you, Harry.” Severus cradled his son in his arms, holding him close so as to shield him from all the pain in the world, as ineffectual as any such gesture from him might be.

“I love you, I never said-- and then I was about to die-- and I never _said_.”

“I know, Harry. I would have know, I do know. I love you, too.”

“I love you.” His son mumbled wetly against the front of his robes, over and over and Severus felt as if he might shatter into a thousand pieces at the sound of it. He let the boy cry and shudder and perhaps hid a few tears of his own but he could not let them rest there for long. It was not safe in Spinner’s End any longer.

“Severus?” And there was Remus at the foot of the stairs, go bag in hand as Severus knew he would have. They had spoken of such a situation, of what they would do should the worst happen. And now it had.

“Harry,” He gently pried the boy away from his front, “we need to leave, it is not safe here.”

“It’s not safe anywhere, anymore.” Harry sniffed, stroking at his serpent’s scales where he had regained his preferred perch at some point during their embrace.

“That is true enough, but this place in particular is less so. There are those among the Death Eaters who know where I live, they will come here. Perhaps not tonight, but eventually, we cannot stay here any longer.”

“But...” Harry trembled, looking far too small and reminiscent of the first time he had stood in that very room, nearly three full years ago, “this is _home_.”

It was, Severus could admit into the quiet of his own mind. It was home now, more than it had ever been in all his years there. It was no longer the dingy, soiled row house, but warm and filled with... _comfort_ as it never had been before.

And they would have to leave it behind, for the moment at least.

As if to punctuate his point, there was a loud rapping at the door. Severus shoved Harry towards Remus, “Disillusionments, _now_.”

Severus approached the door cautiously, wand held firmly ready. Whoever it was, the knock was the only thing giving him pause from simply blasting through the door. The type of people after them now would not have the courtesy to _knock_.

A peek through the eyehole had Severus staggering back before stepping forward once more to double check what his eyes were telling him. A second later he was wrenching open the door to the sight of a man on his front step. He was shorter than Severus, although not by much, and had filled out considerably in the intervening years since they’d last seen one another. An inch of dark, full beard strengthened what had previously been a delicate, aristocratic jawline. While the hair that had customarily fallen in thick tresses to his shoulders was now cut brutally short in a vaguely militaristic style. Eyes that had once been bright and lively with hope and cleverness and dreams were now hardened and heavy with purposeful burden.

“Hello, Severus,” said Regulus Black, “we need to talk.”


End file.
